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THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
SIR HENRY MORTON STANLEY 



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HENRY M. STANLEY, 1890 



THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

OF 

G.C.B. 

D.C.L. (Oxford and Durham), LL.D. (Cambridge and Edinburgh), etc.; Doctor of 

Philosophy of the University of Halle ; Honorary Member of The Royal Geographical 

Society, and the Geographical Societies of The Royal Scottish, Manchester, 

etc. ; Gold Medallist of the Royal Geographical Society of London; 

Gold Medallist of Paris, Italy, Sweden, and Antwerp Geographical 

Societies, etc. ; Grand Cordon of the Medjidie ; Grand Commander 

of the Osmanlie ; Grand Cordon of the Order of the Congo ; 

Grand Commander of the Order of Leopold ; Star of 

Zanzibar; Star of Service on the Congo; etc, etc. 

EDITED BY HIS WIFE 

DOROTHY STANLEY 



WITff SIXTEEN ILLUSTRATIONS 
AND A MAP 







I 






BOSTON AND NEW YORK 
HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY 






COPYRIGHT, 1909, BY DOROTHY STANLEY 
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 

Published October, iQoq 



Popular Edition published October , iqii 




/ /^^ 



EDITOR'S PREFACE ^'f 

IN giving to the world this Autobiography of my husband's 
early years, I am carrying out his wishes. Unfortunately, 
the Autobiography was left unfinished. I am, however, 
able to give very full extracts from his journals, letters, and 
private note-books, in which, day by day, he jotted down 
observations and reflections. 

My best introduction is the following passage from a letter 
he wrote to me on November 30, 1893 : — 

' I should like to write out a rough draft, as it were, of my 
life. The polishing could take care of itself, or you could do it, 
when the time comes. Were I suddenly to be called away, 
how little, after all, the world would know of me ! My African 
life has been fairly described, but only as it affected those 
whom I served, or those who might be concerned. The inner 
existence, the me, what does anybody know of? na}^ you may 
well ask, what do I know? But, granted that I know little 
of my real self, still, I am the best evidence for myself. And 
though, when I have quitted this world, it will matter no- 
thing to me what people say of me, up to the moment of death 
we should strive to leave behind us something which can 
either comfort, amuse, instruct, or benefit the living; and 
though I cannot do either, except in a small degree, even that 
little should be given. 

* 'Just endeavour to imagine yourself in personal -^iew of all 
the poor boys in these islands, English, Scotch, Welsh, and 
Irish, and also all the poor boys in Canada, the States, and 
our Colonies ; regarding them as we regard those in the schools 
we visit in Lambeth, or at Cadoxton, we would see some hun- 
dreds, perhaps thousands, to whom we would instinctively 
turn, and wish we had the power to say something that would 
encourage them in their careers. 

' That is just how I feel. Not all who hear are influenced by 
precept, and not all who see, change because of example. But 
as I am not singular in anything that I know of, there must 



vi EDITOR'S PREFACE 

be a goodly number of boys who are penetrable, and it is for 
these penetrable intelligences, and assimilative organizations, 
that I would care to leave the truthful record of my life. For 
I believe the story of my efforts, struggles, sufferings, and 
failures, of the work done, and the work left undone, — I be- 
lieve this story would help others. If my life had been merely 
frivolous, a life of purposeless drifting, why, then silence were 
better. But it has not been so, and therefore my life can teach 
some lessons, and give encouragement to others.' 

The pathos of this Autobiography lies in the deprivations 
and denials of those early years, here recorded for the first 
time. Yet these sufferings, as he came to realise, were shaping 
and fitting him for the great work he was to perform ; and his 
training and experiences were perhaps the finest a man could 
have had, since, day by day, he was being educated for the 
life that lay before him. Stanley writes : — 

'It can be understood how invaluable such a career and 
such a training, with its compulsory lessons, was to me, as a 
preparation for the tremendous tasks which awaited me.' 

A boy of intense and passionate feelings, the longing for 
home, love, friends, and encouragement, at times amounted 
to pain; yet all these natural blessings were denied him; he 
received no affection from parents, no shelter of home, no 
kindness or help of friends, excepting from his adopted father, 
who died soon after befriending the lonely boy. Baffled and 
bruised at every turn, yet 'the strong pulse of youth vindi- 
cates its right to gladness, even here.* Orphaned, homeless, 
friendless, destitute, he nevertheless was rich in self-reliance 
and self-control, with a trust in God which never failed him. 
And so Stanley grew to greatness, a greatness which cannot 
be fully measured by his contemporaries. As a key to Stanley's 
life, it may be mentioned that one of his earliest and dearest 
wishes, often expressed to me in secret, was, by his personal 
character and the character of his work in every stage of his 
career, to obliterate the stigma of pauperism which had been 
so deeply branded into his very soul by the Poor-Law methods, 
and which in most cases is so lifelong in its blasting effects 
on those who would strive to rise, ever so little, from such 
a Slough of Despond. So that, when he had achieved fame as 
an explorer, he craved, far more than this, a recognition by the 



EDITOR'S PREFACE vii 

English and American Public of the high endeavour which 
was the result of a real nobility of character and aim. 

The ungenerous conduct displayed towards Stanley by a 
portion of the Press and Public would have been truly extra- 
ordinary, but for the historical treatment of Columbus and 
other great explorers into the Unknown. Stanley was not only 
violently attacked on his return from every expedition, but 
it was, for instance, insinuated that he had not discovered 
Livingstone, while some even dared to denounce, as forgeries, 
the autograph letters brought home from Livingstone to his 
children, notwithstanding their own assurance to the contrary. 
This reception produced, therefore, a bitter disappointment, 
only to be appreciated by the reader when he has completed 
this survey of Stanley's splendid personality. 

That Stanley sought no financial benefit by exploiting 
Africa, as he might legitimately have done, is borne out by the 
fact that instead of becoming a multi-millionaire, as the result 
of his vast achievements, and his unique influence with the 
native chiefs, the actual sources of his income were almost 
entirely literary. This is indicated in the text. 

Accepting Free Trade as a policy, the blindness of the Brit- 
ish Nation to the value of additional colonies, and the indiffer- 
ence, not only of successive Governments, but of the various 
Chambers of Commerce, and the industrial community gen- 
erally, whose business instincts might have been expected to 
develop greater foresight, was a source of the deepest concern 
and disappointment to Stanley ; for it meant the loss to Eng- 
land both of the whole of the present Congo Free State, and, 
later, of the monopoly of the Congo Railway, now one of the 
most profitable in the world. The determined opposition for 
long exhibited to the acquisition of Uganda and British East 
Africa was also, for a time, a great anxiety to him. 

It may also be pointed out here that all that is now German 
East Africa was explored and opened up to commerce and 
civilisation by British explorers, Livingstone, Burton, Speke, 
and Stanley. Thus England threw away what individual 
Empire-builders had won for the realm. The obvious advant- 
ages and paramount necessity to a Free-Trade country of 
having vast new markets of its own are sufficiently apparent, 
whatever views are held on the difficult Fiscal Question. 



viii EDITOR'S PREFACE 

Canon Hensley Henson, in 1907, preached a remarkable 
sermon at St. Margaret's Church, Westminster, on St. Paul ; 
and the following passage struck me as being, in some respects, 
not inapplicable to Stanley : — 

'St. Paul, in after years, when he could form some estimate 
of the effect of his vision, came to think that it represented the 
climax of a long course of Providential action ; his ancestry, 
character, training, experiences, seemed to him, in retrospect, 
so wonderfully adapted to the work which he had been led to 
undertake, that he felt compelled to ascribe all to the over- 
ruling Providence of God ; that no less a Power than God 
Himself had been active in his life ; and the singular congruity 
of his eadier experiences with the requirements of his later 
work, confirmed the impression.' 

'Such men,' wrote the Rev. W. Hughes, Missionary on the 
Congo, 'as Dr. Livingstone and Henry M. Stanley, who went 
to Africa to prepare the way and open up that vast and 
wealthy country, that the light of civilisation and the Gospel 
might enter therein, are men created for their work, set apart, 
and sent out by Divine Providence, which over-rules every- 
thing that it may promote the good of man, and show forth 
His own glory. No one who has always lived in a civilised 
country can conceive what these two men have accomplished.' 

The following striking picture of Stanley, from an article in 
.'Blackwood's Magazine,' may well be given here: — 

'If the history of modern discovery has a moment com- 
parable for dramatic interest to that in which Columbus 
turned his prow westward, and sailed into space, to link for 
ever the destinies of two hemispheres, it is the one in which a 
roving white man, in the far heart of Africa, set his face down 
the current of a mighty river, and committed himself to its 
waters, determined, for weal or woe, to track their course to 
the sea. The Genoese navigator, indeed, who divined and 
dared an unknown world, staked the whole future of humanity 
on his bold intuition, but posterity may one day trace results 
scarcely less momentous to the resolve of the intrepid ex- 
plorer who launched his canoe on the Congo at Nyangwe, to 
win a second great inheritance for mankind. 

'The exploration of the great, moving highway of Africa 
makes an epoch in the discovery of Africa, closing the era of 



EDITOR'S PREFACE ix 

desultory and isolated research, and opening that of com- 
bined, steady effort towards a definite, though distant, goal. 
That goal is the opening-up of the vast Equatorial region to 
direct intercourse with Europe.' 

I will now close my preface with St. Paul's words, because 
they so wonderfully apply to Stanley : — 

In journeyings often, in perils of waters, 

In perils of robbers, in perils by mine own countrymen, in perils 

by the heathen, 
In perils in the city, in perils in the wilderness, in perils in the sea. 
In perils among false brethren ; 
In weariness and painfulness, in watchings often. 
In hunger and thirst, in fastings often, 
In cold and nakedness. 

If I must needs glory, I will glory of the things that concern my 
weakness. 

(II Corinthians, Chap, xi, 26, 27, 30.) 

The first nine chapters of the book are the Autobiography, 
covering the early years of Stanley's life. In the remaining 
chapters, the aim has been to make him the narrator and 
interpreter of his own actions. This has been done, wherever 
possible, by interweaving, into a connected narrative, strands 
gathered from his unpublished writings. 

These materials consist, first, of journals and note-books. 
For many years he kept a line-a-day diary; through some 
periods, especially during his explorations, he wrote a full 
journal ; and at a later period he kept note-books, as well as 
a journal, for jotting down, sometimes a personal retrospect, 
sometimes a comment on the society about him, or a philo- 
sophical reflection. 

The material includes, next, a number of lectures, upon his 
various explorations; these he prepared with great care, but 
they were never published. They were written after he had 
published the books covering the same travels; and in the 
lectures we have the story told in a more condensed and col- 
loquial way. Finally, there are his letters ; in those to acquaint- 
ances, and even to friends, Stanley was always reserved about 
himself, and his feelings ; I have therefore used only a few of 
those written to me, during our married Hfe. 



X EDITOR'S PREFACE 

In some parts of the book, a thread of editorial explanation 
connects the passages by Stanley's hand ; and for some periods, 
where the original material was fragmentary, the main nar- 
rative is editorial. 

The use of the large type signifies that Stanley is the 
writer; the smaller type indicates the editor's hand. 

I would here record my deep gratitude to Mr. George S. 
Merriam, of Springfield, Massachusetts, U. S. A., for the 
invaluable help and advice he has given me; and also to 
Mr. Henry S. Wellcome, Stanley's much-valued friend, for 
the great encouragement and sympathy he has shown me 
throughout the preparation of this book for the press. 

Mr. Sidney Low's beautiful tribute, I republish, by kind 
permission of Messrs. Smith and Elder, from the 'Cornhill 
Magazine,' of July, 1904. 

Finally, I would draw attention to the map of Africa placed 
at the end of this volume: Stanley carefully superintended 
the making of it by the great map-maker, Mr. John Bolton, 
at Messrs. Stanford's. It was Mr. Bolton's suggestion that 
I should put the small outline map of England beside it to 
indicate, by comparison, the relative size of that portion of 
Africa which is included in the larger map. 

D. S. 



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CONTENTS 

INTRODUCTION TO THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY . . xv 

PART I 

AUTOBIOGRAPHY. THROUGH THE WORLD 

I. The Workhouse 3 

II. Adrift 35 

III. At Sea 69 

IV. At Work . . . . . . . . .86 

V. I Find A Father 118 

VI. Adrift Again 140 

VII. Soldiering • 167 

VIII. Shiloh i86 

IX. Prisoner of War . . . . . . . 205 

PART II 

THE LIFE {continued, from Stanley s Journals, Notes, gi€.) 

X. Journalism . . , . . . . . .219 

XI. West and East 

INDIAN WARS OF THE WEST. — ABYSSINIAN CAMPAIGN, ETC. 225 



xii CONTENTS 

■e 

XII. A Roving Commission 237 

XIII. The Finding OF Livingstone . , . , "* ' . 251 

XIV. England and Coomassie 285 

XV. Through the IDark Continent .... 296 

XVI. Founding the Congo State 333 

XVII. The Rescue of Emin 

I. the relief 353 

II. private reflections . . . . . 380 
XVIII. Work in Review 392 

XIX. Europe Again 409 

XX. The Happy Haven 423 

XXI. Politics and Friends 439 

XXII. In Parliament 466 

XXIII. South Africa 482 

XXIV. Farewell to Parliament 501 

XXV. Furze Hill 506 

XXVI. The Close of Life 512 

XXVII. Thoughts from Note-Books 517 

Books written by Henry M. Stanley 541 

Index . 543 



ILLUSTRATIONS 



Henry M. Stanley, 1890 

Photograph by Mrs. Frederic W. H. Myers. 

The Cottage where Henry M. Stanley was born 

The Workhouse, St. Asaph 

Flynnon Beuno 

Henry M. Stanley, at 15 . 

" Craig Fawr " from the Farm 

Henry M. Stanley, at 17 

Henry M. Stanley, at 20 



Henry M. Stanley, 1872 

Photograph by the London Stereoscopic Co., Regent St., London. 

Doctor Livingstone 

Photograph by the London Stereoscopic Co., Regent St., London. 

Henry M. Stanley and his Men at Zanzibar, 1877 
Henry M, Stanley, 1882 

Photograph by Messrs. Thomson, New Bond St., London. 



Henry M. Stanley, 1885 . . . . 

Photograph by Messrs. Elliott &= Fry, Baker St., London. 

Henry M. Stanley and his Officers, 1890 . 
Facsimile of a Letter by Sir Henry M. Stanley 



Frontispiece 

to face 4 

12 

42 

52 

54 

140 

167 

264 

282 

330 
336 

348 

374 
378 



xiv ILLUSTRATIONS 

Henry M. Stanley, 1890, on his Return from Africa to face 409 

Photograph by Mrs. Frederic W. H. Myers. 

Dorothy Stanley 423 

Furze Hill, Pirbright, Surrey 506 

In the Village Churchyard, Pirbright ... 516 

Map of Africa, showing Stanley's Journeys . . at end 

By Messrs. Stanford, London. 



INTRODUCTION TO THE 
AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

THERE is no reason now for withholding the history 
of my early years, nothing to prevent my stating 
every fact about myself. I am now declining in vital- 
ity. My hard life in Africa, many fevers, many privations, 
rnuch physical and mental suffering, bring me close to the 
period of infirmities. My prospects now cannot be blasted by 
gibes, nor advancement thwarted by prejudice. I stand in 
no man's way. Therefore, without fear of consequences, or 
danger to my pride and reserve, I can lay bare all circum- 
stances which have attended me from the dawn of conscious- 
ness to this present period of indifference. 

I may tell how I came into existence, and how that existence 
was moulded by contact with others ; how my nature devel- 
oped under varying influences, and what, after life's severe 
tests, is the final outcome of it. I may tell how, from the soft, 
tender atom in the cradle, I became a football to Chance, till 
1 grew in hardihood, and learned how to repel kicks ; how I 
was taught to observe the moods and humours of that large 
mass of human beings who flitted by me. 

As I have been in the habit of confining myself to myself, 
my reserve has been repugnant to gossip in every shape or 
form, and I have ever been the least likely person to hear 
anything evil of others, because, when the weakness or eccen- 
tricity of a casual acquaintance happened to be a topic, I 
have made it a principle to modify, if I could not change it. 
In this book I am not translating from a diary, nor is it the 
harvest of a journal, but it consists of backward glances at 
my own life, as memory unrolls the past to me. My inclina- 
tion, as a young man, was always to find congenial souls to 
whom I could attach myself in friendship, not cling to for 
support, friends on whom I could thoroughly rely, and to 
whom I could trustfully turn for sympathy, and the exchange 
of thoughts. But, unfortunately, those to whom in my trust- 



xvi INTRODUCTION 

ful age I ventured to consign the secret hopes and interests of 
my heart, invariably betrayed me. In some bitter moods I 
have thought that the sweetest parts of the Bible are wholly 
inapplicable to actual humanity, for no power, it appeared to 
me, could ever transform grown-up human beings so as to be 
worthy of heavenly blessings. 

'Little children, love one another,' says divine St. John. 
Ah ! yes, while we are children, we are capable of loving ; our 
love is as that of Angels, and we are not far below them in 
purity, despite our trivial errors and fantasies ; for however 
we err, we still can love. But when I emerged from childhood, 
and learned by experience that there was no love for me, born, 
so to say, fatherless, spurned and disowned by my mother, 
beaten almost to death by my teacher and guardian, fed on 
the bread of bitterness, how was I to believe in Love? 

I was met by Hate in all its degrees, and not I alone. Look 
into the halls of legislation, of religious communities, of jus- 
tice ; look into the Press, any market-place, meeting-house, or 
walk of life, and answer the question, as to your own soul, 
'Where shall I find Love?' 

See what a change forty years have wrought in me. When 
a child, I loved him who so much as smiled at me ; the partner 
of my little bed, my play-fellow, the stranger boy who visited 
me ; nay, as a flower attracts the bee, it only needed the glance 
of a human face, to begin regarding it with love. Mere in- 
crease of years has changed all that. Never can I recall that 
state of innocence, any more than I can rekindle the celestial 
spark, for it was extinguished with the expansion of intellect 
and by my experience of mankind. While my heart, it may 
be, is as tender as ever to the right person, it is subject to my 
intellect, which has become so fastidious and nice in its choice, 
that only one in a million is pronounced worthy of it. 

No doubt there will be much self-betrayal in these pages, 
and he who can read between the lines, as a physiognomist 
would read character, will not find it difficult to read me. 
But then, this is the purpose of an Autobiography, and all 
will agree that it must be much more authentic than any 
record made of me by another man. Indeed, I wish to appear 
without disguise, as regards manners and opinions, habits and 
characteristics. 



INTRODUCTION xvii 

If a nation can be said to be happy which has no history, 
that man is also happy whose uneventful life has not brought 
him into prominence, and who has nothing to record but the 
passing of years between the cradle and the grave. But I was 
not sent into the world to be happy, nor to search for happi- 
ness. I was sent for a special work. Now, from innocent 
boyhood and trustful youth, I have advanced to some height 
whence I can look down, pityingly ; as a father I can look down 
upon that young man, Myself, with a chastened pride ; he has 
done well, he might have done better, but his life has been a 
fulfilment, since he has finished the work he was sent to do. 

Amen. 



PART I 

AUTOBIOGRAPHY 
THROUGH THE WORLD 



THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
SIR HENRY MORTON STANLEY 



CHAPTER I « 

THE WORKHOUSE 

IT is said that one of the patrician Mostyns, of North 
Wales, possesses a written pedigree forty feet long, to 
prove the claim of his family to a direct descent from 
Adam. Though no doubt much of this extraordinary genea- 
logy is fabulous, it allows all of us plebeians a reasonable hope 
to believe that we are also descended from that venerated 
ancestor of our common humanity. The time has been when 
patrician families fondly believed their first progenitor had 
come direct from Heaven, and we baser creatures had to be 
content with an earthly sire. 

I can prove as ancient a descent for myself, though the 
names of my intermediate progenitors between Adam and my 
grandfathers, Moses and John, have not been preserved. My 
family belonged to a class always strangely indifferent to 
written pedigrees, which relied more on oral traditions, the 
preserving of which has been mostly the duties of females, on 
account of their superior fluency of speech, and their dispo- 
sition to cling to tKeir family hearth. My earliest pains were 
caused by the endless rehearsal of family history to which my 
nurse was addicted ; for soon after sunset each evening she 
would insist on taking me before some neighbour's fire, where 
I would meet about a dozen dames from the Castle Row, pre- 
pared to indulge in their usual entertainment of recitations 
from their stock of unwritten folklore. After a ceremonious 
greeting and kindly interchange of civil enquiries about each 
other's health and affairs, they would soon drift into more 
serious matter. I have a vague idea that much of it bordered 
on the uncanny and awful, but I retain a strong impression 
that most of their conversations related to the past and present 



4 HENRY M. STANLEY 

of their respective families, courtships, marriages, and deaths 
being prime events. I also remember that there were many- 
long pauses, during which I could hear a chorus of sympathetic 
sighs. The episodes which drew these from their affectionate 
breasts are quite forgotten, but those sighs haunt me still. 

Such families as were clustered in front of the Green of 
Denbigh Castle were an exceedingly primitive folk, with far 
less regard for ancient ancestry than the Bedouin of the 
Desert. Indeed, I doubt whether any tradesman or farmer in 
our parts could say who was his great-great-grandfather, or 
whether one yeoman out of a hundred could tell who was his 
ancestor of two hundred years back. As King Cazembe said 
to Livingstone, the 'Seeker of Rivers,' 'We let the streams run 
on, and do not enquire whence they rise or whither they flow.' 

So these simple Welsh people would answer if questioned 
about their ancestors, ' We are born and die, and, beyond that, 
none of us care who were before us, or who shall come after us.' 

My personal recollections do not extend beyond the time I 
lay in the cradle ; so that all that precedes this period I have 
been obliged to take upon trust. Mind and body have grown 
together, and both will decay according to the tasks or bur- 
dens imposed on them. But strange, half-formed ideas glide 
vaguely into the mind, sometimes, and then I seem not far from 
a tangible and intelligent view into a distant age. Sometimes 
the turn of a phrase, a sentence in a book, the first faint out- 
line of a scene, a face like, yet unlike, one whom I knew, an 
incident, will send my mind searching swiftly down the long- 
reaching aisles, extending far into remote, pre-personal periods, 
trying to discover the connection, to fofge again the long- 
broken link, or to re-knit the severed strand. 

My father I never knew. I was in my 'teens' before I 
learned that he had died within a few weeks after my birth. 
Up to a certain date in the early Forties, all is profound 
darkness to me. Then, as I woke from sleep one day, a brief 
period of consciousness suddenly dawned upon my faculties. 
There was an indefinable murmur about me, some unintel- 
ligible views floated before my senses, light flashed upon the 
spirit, and I entered into being. 

At what age I first received these dim, but indelible, im- 
pressions, I cannot guess. It must have been in helpless 



THE WORKHOUSE 5 

infancy, for I seem to have passed, subsequently, through 
a long age of dreams, wherein countless vague experiences, 
emotions, and acts occurred which, though indefinable, left 
shadowy traces on my memory. During such a mechanical 
stage of existence it was not possible for me to distinguish 
between dreams and realities. 

I fancy I see a white ceiling, and square joists, with meat- 
hooks attached to them, a round, pink human face, the frill 
of a cap, a bit of bright ribbon ; but, before I am able to grasp 
the meaning of what I see, I have lapsed into unconsciousness 
again. After an immeasurable time, the faculties seem to be 
re-awakened, and I can distinguish tones, and am aware that I 
can see, hear, and feel, and that I am in my cradle. It is close 
by a wooden staircase, and my eyes follow its length up, and 
then down ; I catch sight of a house-fly, and then another, 
and their buzz and movements become absorbing. Presently 
a woman advances, bends over me a moment, then lifts me up 
in her arms, and from a great height I survey my world. 

There is a settle of dark wood, a bit of carving at the end of 
it ; there is a black, shiny chimney ; a red coal-fire, with one 
spluttering jet of flame, and waving soot-flakes; there is a 
hissing black kettle, and a thread of vapour from the nozzle ; 
a bright copper bed-warmer suspended to the wall ; a display 
of coloured plates, mainly blue, with Chinese pictures on 
them, arranged over a polished dresser; there is an uneven 
flagstone floor ; a window with diamond panes set in lead ; a 
burnished white table, with two deep drawers in it ; a curious 
old clock, with intensely red flowers above, and chains and 
weights below it ; and, lastly, I see a door cut into two halves, 
the upper one being wide open, through which I gain my first 
view of sky and space. This last is a sight worth seeing, and 
I open my eyes roundly to take stock of this pearly space and 
its drifting fleece as seen through the door, and my attention 
is divided between the sky and the tick-tack of the clock, 
while forced to speculate what the white day and the pearly 
void mean. 

There follows a transition into another state of conscious 
being wherein I appear to have wings, and to be soaring up to 
the roof of a great hall, and sailing from corner to corner, like 
a humming bee on a tour of exploration ; and, the roof pre- 



6 HENRY M. STANLEY 

sently being removed, I launch out with wings outspread, 
joyous and free, until I lose myself in the unknowable, to 
emerge, sometime after, in my own cradle-nest at the foot 
of the wooden stairs. 

And thus, for an unknown stretch of time, I endure my days 
without apparent object, but quietly observant, and an in- 
articulate witness of a multitude of small events ; and thus 
I waited, and watched, and dreamed, surrendering myself to 
my state, undisturbed, unaffected, unresisting, borne along by 
Time until I could stand and take a larger and more delib- 
erate survey of the strange things done around me. In process 
of time, however, my tongue learns to form words, and to 
enter upon its duties, and it is not long before intelligence 
begins to peep out and to retain durably the sense of exist- 
ence. 

One of the first things I remember is to have been gravely 
told that I had come from London in a band-box, and to have 
been assured that all babies came from the same place. It 
satisfied my curiosity for several years as to the cause of my 
coming ; but, later, I was informed that my mother had hast- 
ened to her parents from London to be delivered of me ; and 
that, after recovery, she had gone back to the Metropolis, 
leaving me in the charge of my grandfather, Moses Parry, 
who lived within the precincts of Denbigh Castle. 

Forty years of my life have passed, and this delving into 
my earliest years appears to me like an exhumation of Pompeii, 
buried for centuries under the scoriae, lava, and volcanic dust 
of Vesuvius. To the man of the Nineteenth Century, who 
paces the recovered streets and byeways of Pompeii, how 
strange seem the relics of the far distant life ! Just so appear 
to me the little fatherless babe, and the orphaned child. 

Up to a certain time I could remember well every incident 
connected with those days ; but now I look at the child with 
wonder, and can scarcely credit that out of that child I grew. 
How quaint that bib and tucker, that short frock, the fat legs, 
the dimpled cheeks, the clear, bright, grey eyes, the gaping 
wonderment at the sight of a stranger; and I have to brush 
by the stupefied memories of a lifetime ! 

When I attempt to arrest one of the fleeting views of these 
early stages of my life, the foremost image which presents 



THE WORKHOUSE 7 

itself is that of my grandfather's house, a white-washed cot- 
tage, situated at the extreme left of the Castle, with a long 
garden at the back, at the far end of which was the slaughter- 
house where my Uncle Moses pole-axed calves, and prepared 
their carcasses for the market ; and the next is of myself, in 
bib and tucker, between grandfather's knees, having my 
fingers guided, as I trace the alphabet letters on a slate. I 
seem to hear, even yet, the encouraging words of the old man, 
'Thou wilt be a man yet before thy mother, my man of 
men.' 

It was then, I believe, that I first felt what it was to be vain. 
I was proud to believe that, though women might be taller, 
stronger, and older than I, there lay a future before me that 
the most powerful women could never hope to win. It was 
then also I gathered that a child's first duty was to make 
haste to be a man, in order that I might attain that highest 
human dignity. 

My grandfather appears to me as a stout old gentleman, 
clad in corduroy breeches, dark stockings, and long Melton 
coat, with a clean-shaven face, rather round, and lit up by 
humorous grey eyes. He and I occupied the top floor, which 
had an independent entrance from the garden. The lower 
rooms were inhabited by my uncles, Moses and Thomas. 
By-and-bye, there came a change. My strong, one-armed 
Uncle Moses married a woman named Kitty, a flaxen-haired, 
fair girl of a decided temper ; and after that event we seldom 
descended to the lower apartments. 

I have a vivid remembrance of Sunday evenings at a Wes- 
leyan chapel, on account of the tortures which I endured. 
The large galleried building, crowded with fervid worshippers, 
and the deep murmur of 'Amens,' the pious ejaculations, are 
well remembered, as well as the warm atmosphere and curious 
scent of lavender which soon caused an unconquerable drowsi- 
ness in me. Within a short time my head began to nod 
heavily, to the great danger of my neck, and the resolute 
eff^ort I made to overcome this sleepiness, to avoid the re- 
proaches of my grandfather, who affected to be shocked at 
my extraordinary behaviour, caused the conflict with nature 
to be so painful that i-t has been impossible for me to forget 
the chapel and its scenes. 



8 HENRY M. STANLEY 

After passing my fourth year there came an afternoon 
when, to my dismay and fright, a pitcher with which I was 
sent for water fell from my hands and was broken. My 
grandfather came to the garden door on hearing the crash, 
and, viewing what had happened, lifted his forefinger menac- 
ingly and said, 'Very well, Shonin, my lad, when I return, 
thou shalt have a sound whipping. You naughty boy 1 ' 

A tragedy, however, intervened to prevent this punish- 
ment. It appears that he was in a hurry to attend to some 
work in a field that day, and, while there, fell down dead. The 
neighbours announced that he had died through the 'visita- 
tion of God,' which was their usual way of explaining any 
sudden fatahty of this kind. He was aged 84. His tomb at 
Whitchurch declares the event to have occurred in 1847. 

Soon after, I was transferred to the care of an ancient 
couple who lived at the other end of the Castle, named Rich- 
ard and Jenny Price, keepers of the Bowling Green, into which 
one of the courts of the old Castle had been converted. The 
rate for my maintenance was fixed at half-a-crown a week, 
which my two uncles agreed to pay to the Prices. Old Richard 
Price, besides being a gamekeeper, was Sexton of Whitchurch, 
and Verger of St. David's. His wife Jenny, a stout and buxom 
old lady, is remembered by me mostly for her associations 
with 'peas-pudding,' for which I had a special aversion, and 
for her resolute insistence that, whether I liked it or not, I 
should eat it. 

Other memories of this period are also unforgettable for 
the pains connected with them, — such as the soap-lather in 
my Saturday evening tub, and the nightly visits of Sarah 
Price, the daughter of the house, to her friends at Castle Row, 
where she would gossip to such a late hour that I always suf- 
fered from intolerable fidgets. Mothers of the present day 
will understand how hard it is for a child of four or five years 
old to remain awake long after sunset, and that it was cruel 
ignorance on the part of Sarah to keep me up until ten o'clock 
every night, to listen to her prosy stories of ghosts and graves. 
Sarah's description of a devil, a curious creature with horns 
on his head, with hoofed feet and a long tail, was wont to 
make me shiver with fright. She was equally graphic and 
minute in her descriptions of witches, ghosts, fairies, giants 



THE WORKHOUSE 9 

and dwarfs, kidnappers and hobgoblins, bugaboos, and other 
terrific monsters, against whose extraordinary powers it be- 
hoved me to be always on guard. The dark night was espe- 
cially haunted by them, and the ingle-nook by a bright fire 
was then the safest place for children. 

If the grown folk had not all shared Sarah's belief in these 
gruesome creatures, I might perhaps have doubted they ex- 
isted ; but I remember to have seen them huddle closer to the 
fire, look warily over their shoulders at the shadows, as though 
they lay in wait for a casual bit of darkness to pounce upon 
them and carry them off to the ghostly limbo. Had Sarah 
but known how pain impresses the memory of a child, it is 
probable that she would have put me to bed rather than have 
taken me with her, as a witness of her folly and ignorant 
credulity. She believed herself to be very level-headed, and, 
indeed, by her acquaintances she was esteemed as a sensible 
and clever woman ; but, as she infected me with many silly 
fears, I am now inclined to believe that both she and her 
neighbours were sadly deficient in common-sense. 

One effect of these interminable ghost-stories was visible 
one evening when I went to fetch some water from the Castle 
well. It appeared to me that I saw on this occasion a tall, 
black spectre, standing astride of the Castle well. I took it at 
first to be the shadow of a tree, but tracing it upward I saw 
a man's head which seemed to reach the sky. I gazed at 
it a short time, unable to move or cry out ; then the phantom 
seemed to be advancing upon me, fear put wings to my feet, 
and I turned and ran, screaming, and never once halted until 
I had found a safe hiding-place under my bed. The dreadful 
vision of that ghost haunted me for years, and for a long time 
I made it a rule not to retire until I had looked under the bed, 
lest, when asleep, ghosts and kidnappers might come and 
carry me off. The belief that the darkness was infested by 
evil agencies and ferocious visitants hostile to little boys I owe 
to Sarah's silly garrulity at Castle Row. 

I am under the impression that during the day, for a portion 
of this period, I was sent to an infant's school, where there 
was a terrible old lady who is associated in my mind with 
spectacles and a birch rod ; but I have no particular incident 
connected with it to make it definite. 



10 HENRY M. STANLEY 

Richard Price and his wife Jenny seem to have, at last, 
become dismayed at my increasing appetite, and to have 
demanded a higher rate for my maintenance. As both my 
uncles had in the mean time married, and through the influ- 
ence of their wives declined to be at further charge for me, 
the old couple resolved to send me to the Workhouse. Con- 
sequently Dick Price, the son, took me by the hand one day, 
Saturday, February 20th, 1847, and, under the pretence that 
we were going to Aunt Mary at Fynnon Beuno, induced me 
to accompany him on a long journey. 

The way seemed interminable and tedious, but he did his 
best to relieve my fatigue with false cajolings and treacherous 
endearments. At last Dick set me down from his shoulders 
before an immense stone building, and, passing through tall 
iron gates, he pulled at a bell, which I could hear clanging 
noisily in the distant interior. A sombre-faced stranger ap- 
peared at the door, who, despite my remonstrances, seized 
me by the hand, and drew me within, while Dick tried to sooth 
my fears with glib promises that he was only going to bring 
Aunt Mary to me. The door closed on him, and, with the 
echoing sound, I experienced for the first time the awful feel- 
ing of utter desolateness. 

The great building with the iron gates and Innumerable 
windows, into which I had been so treacherously taken, was 
the St. Asaph Union Workhouse. It is an Institution to 
which the aged poor and superfluous children of that parish 
are taken, to relieve the respectabilities of the obnoxious 
sight of extreme poverty, and because civilisation knows no 
better method of disposing of the infirm and helpless than by 
imprisoning them within Its walls. 

Once within, the aged are subjected to stern rules and 
useless tasks, while the children are chastised and disciplined 
in a manner that is contrary to justice and charity. To the 
aged it is a house of slow death, to the young It Is a house of 
torture. Paupers are the failures of society, and the doom of 
such is that they shall be taken to eke out the rest of their 
miserable existence within the walls of the Workhouse, to pick 
oakum. 

The sexes are lodged in separate wards enclosed by high 
walls, and every door is locked, and barred, and guarded, to 



THE WORKHOUSE ii 

preserve that austere morality for which these institutions are 
famous. That the piteous condition of these unfortunates 
may not arouse any sympathy in the casual visitor, the out- 
casts are clad in fustian suits, or striped cotton dresses, in 
which uniform garb they become undistinguishable, and 
excite no interest. Their only fault was that they had become 
old, or so enfeebled by toil and sickness that they could no 
longer sustain themselves, and this is so heinous and grave in 
Christian England that it is punished by the loss of their 
liberty, and they are made slaves. 

At one time in English history such wretches were left to 
die by the wayside; at another time, they incurred the sus- 
picion of being witches, and were either drowned or burnt; 
but in the reign of Queen Victoria the dull-witted nation has 
conceived it to be more humane to confine them in a prison, 
separate husband from wife, parent from child, and mete out 
to each inmate a daily task, and keep old and young under 
the strictest surveillance. At six in the morning they are all 
roused from sleep ; and at 8 o'clock at night they are penned 
up in their dormitories. Bread, gruel, rice, and potatoes com- 
pose principally their fare, after being nicely weighed and 
measured. On Saturdays each person must undergo a thorough 
scrubbing, and on Sundays they must submit to two sermons, 
which treat of things never practised, and patiently kneel 
during a prayer as long as a sermon, in the evening. 

It is a fearful fate, that of a British outcast, because the 
punishment afflicts the mind and breaks the heart. It is 
worse than that which overtakes the felonious convict, be- 
cause it appears so unmerited, and so contrary to that which 
the poor have a right to expect from a Christian and civilised 
people. 

Ages hence the nation will be wiser, and devise something 
more suited to the merits of the veteran toilers. It will con- 
vert these magnificent and spacious buildings into model 
houses for the poor, on the flat system, which may be done at 
little expense. The cruel walls which deprive the inmates of 
their liberty will be demolished, and the courts will be con- 
verted into grassy plats edged by flowering bushes. The 
stupid restraints on the aged will be abolished, husbands and 
wives will be housed together, their children will be restored 



12 HENRY M. STANLEY 

to them after school hours. The bachelors and spinsters will 
dwell apart, the orphans will be placed in orphanages, the 
idiots in asylums, and the able-bodied tramp and idler in 
penitentiaries, and these costly structures will lose their 
present opprobrious character. 

But now, as in 1847, the destitute aged and the orphans, 
the vagabonds and the idiots, are gathered into these insti- 
tutions, and located in their respective wards according to 
age and sex. In that of St. Asaph the four wards meet in an 
octagonal central house, which contains the offices of the in- 
stitution, and is the residence of the governor and matron. 

It took me some time to learn the unimportance of tears in 
a workhouse. Hitherto tears had brought me relief in one 
shape or another, but from this time forth they availed 
nothing. James Francis, the one-handed schoolmaster into 
whose stern grasp Dick Price had resigned me, was little dis- 
posed to soften the blow dealt my sensibilities by treachery. 
Though forty-five vears have passed since that dreadful 
evening, my resentment has not a whit abated. Dick's guile 
was well meant, no doubt, but I then learned for the first time 
that one's professed friend can smile while preparing to deal 
a mortal blow, and that a man can mask evil with a show of 
goodness. It would have been far better for me if Dick, being 
stronger than I, had employed compulsion, instead of shat- 
tering my confidence and planting the first seeds of distrust 
in a child's heart. 

Francis, soured by misfortune, brutal of temper, and callous 
of heart, through years of" control over children, was not a man 
to understand the cause of my inconsolable grief. Nor did he 
try. Time, however, alleviated my affliction, and the lapse of 
uncounted days, bringing their quota of smarts and pains, 
tended to harden the mind for life's great task of suffering. 
No Greek helot or dark slave ever underwent such discipline 
as the boys of St. Asaph under the heavy masterful hand of 
James Francis. The ready back-slap in the face, the stunning 
clout over the ear, the strong blow with the open palm on 
alternate cheeks, which knocked our senses into confusion, 
were so frequent that it is a marvel we ever recovered them 
again. Whatever might be the nature of the offence, or 
merely because his irritable mood required vent, our poor 



THE WORKHOUSE 13 

heads were cuffed, and slapped, and pounded, until we lay 
speechless and streaming with blood. But though a tremend- 
ously rough and reckless striker with his fist or hand, such 
blows were preferable to deliberate punishment with the 
birch, ruler, or cane, which, with cool malice, he inflicted. 
These instruments were always kept ready at hand. It simply 
depended upon how far the victim was from him, or how 
great was his fury, as to which he would choose to castigate 
us with. If we happened to be called up to him to recite our 
lessons, then the bony hand flew mercilessly about our faces 
and heads, or rammed us in the stomachs until our convulsions 
became alarming. If, while at the desk, he was reading to us, 
he addressed a question to some boy, the slightest error in 
reply would either be followed by a stinging blow from the 
ruler, or a thwack with his blackthorn. If a series of errors 
were discovered in our lessons, then a vindictive scourging of 
the offender followed, until he was exhausted, or our lacerated 
bodies could bear no more.^ 

My first flogging is well remembered, and illustrates the 
man's temper and nature thoroughly, and proves that we 
were more unfortunate than vicious. It was a Sunday evening 
in the early part of 1849. Francis was reading aloud to us the 
41st chapter of Genesis, preliminary to dismissing us to our 
dormitory. There was much reference in the chapter to 
Joseph, who had been sold as a slave by his brothers, and had 
been promoted to high rank by Pharaoh. In order to test our 
attention, he suddenly looked up and demanded of me who 
it was that had interpreted the dream of the King. With 
a proud confidence I promptly replied, — 

'Jophes, sir.' 

'Who?' 

'Jophes, sir.' 

'Joseph, you mean.' 

'Yes, sir, Jophes.' 

Despite his repeated stern shouts of 'Joseph,' I as often 
replied 'Jophes,' wondering more and more at his rising 

* James Francis had been a working collier at Mold until he met with an accident 
which deprived him of his left hand. As he had some education he was appointed 
Master of St. Asaph Union, where he remained during many years. He became more 
and more savage, and, at last, it was discovered he had lost his reason, and he died in a 
mad-house. — D. S. 



14 HENRY M. STANLEY 

wrath, and wherein lay the difference between the two 
names. 

He grew tired at last, and laying hold of a new birch rod 
he ordered me to unbreech, upon which I turned marble- 
white, and for a moment was as one that is palsied, for my 
mind was struggling between astonishment, terror, and doubt 
as to whether my ears had heard aright, and why I was 
chosen to be the victim of his anger. This hesitation in- 
creased his wrath, and while I was still inwardly in a turmoil 
he advanced upon me, and rudely tore down my nether gar- 
ment and administered a forceful shower of blows, with such 
thrilling effect that I was bruised and bloodied all over, and 
could not stand for a time. During the hour that followed 
I remained as much perplexed at the difference between 
'Jophes' and 'Joseph' as at the peculiar character of the 
agonising pains I suffered. For some weeks I was under the 
impression that the scourging was less due to my error than to 
some mysterious connection it might have with Genesis. 

With such a passionate teacher it may be imagined that we 
children increased his displeasure times without number. 
The restlessness of childhood, and nature's infirmities, con- 
tributed endless causes for correction. The unquiet feet, the 
lively tongues, defects of memory, listlessness, the effects of 
the climate, all sufficed to provoke his irritation, and to cause 
us to be summarily castigated with birch or stick, or pum- 
melled without mercy. 

Day after day little wretches would be flung down on the 
stone floor in writhing heaps, or stood, with blinking eyes and 
humped backs, to receive the shock of the ebony ruler, or were 
sent' pirouetting across the school from a ruffianly kick, while 
the rest suffered from a sympathetic terror during such exhi- 
bitions, for none knew what moment he might be called to 
endure the like. Every hour of our lives we lived and breathed 
in mortal fear of the cruel hand and blighting glare of one so 
easily frenzied. 

The second memorable whipping I received was during the 
autumn of 1851, the year of Rhuddlan Eisteddfod. Cholera 
was reported to be in the country, and I believe we were for- 
bidden to eat fruit of any kind. Some weeks, however, after 
the edict had been issued, I and the most scholarly boy in 



THE WORKHOUSE 15 

the school were sent on an errand to the Cathedral town. 
When returning, we caught sight of a bunch of blackberries 
on the other side of a hedge, and, wholly oblivious of the conse- 
quences, we climbed over a gate into the field and feasted on 
the delicious fruit, and, of course, stained our fingers and lips. 
On reporting ourselves to Francis, it was evident by the way 
he gazed at us both that he guessed what we had been doing, 
but he said nothing, and we retired from him with a sense of 
relief. About half an hour after we all had been dismissed to 
our dormitory, and we were all quiet abed, the master's tramp 
was heard on the stairs, and when he appeared at the door he 
had a birch as large as a broom in his hand. 

He stood long enough to remind us all that he had ex- 
pressly forbidden us to eat any fruit from stall or hedge be- 
cause of the sickness that was in the country ; then, giving a 
swishing blow in the air with his birch, he advanced to my 
bed and with one hand plucked me out of bed, and forthwith 
administered a punishment so dreadful that blackberries 
suggested birching ever afterwards. He next went to the bed 
of the scholar George, who hitherto had escaped the experi- 
ence he was now to undergo, because of his remarkable abil- 
ities. George, being new to the exquisite pain of flagellation, 
writhed and struggled to such an extent that he exasperated 
the master, and received double punishment, and his back, 
breast, and legs were covered with wounds. 

The hard tasks imposed upon us, such as sweeping the play- 
ground with brooms more suited to giants than little children, 
the washing of the slated floors when one was stiff from 
caning, the hoeing of frost-bound ground, when every stroke 
on it caused the nerves to quiver, the thinly-clad body all 
the while exposed to a searching wind ; the compelling us to 
commit whole pages to memory during the evening ; in these, 
and scores of other ways, our treatment was ferocious and 
stupid. 

Under such treatment as these examples describe, who 
could have supposed that any of the St. Asaph waifs would 
ever have developed into anything resembling respectable 
manhood? Yet several of these poor lads have since risen to 
receive a large measure of respect from Society. One of them 
has become a wealthy merchant, another is a vicar, a third is 



i6 HENRY M. STANLEY 

a colonial lawyer, and a fourth is a person of distinction in a 
South African State. 

It is true that, though unfortunate in early infancy, many of 
these children were of sound, vigorous stock, and descended 
from people who had once been eminently respectable; and 
the diet, though meagre, was nourishing; but the inhuman 
discipline, the excessive confinement to school, ought to have 
dwarfed their bodies, crushed their spirits, and made them 
hopelessly imbecile. 

Up to the eleventh year of age we all appeared to be of the 
same mould, and of a very level mediocrity. We were of the 
same cowed, submissive aspect, and were a mere flock of 
cropped little oddities, eating at the same table, rising from 
bed and retiring at the same minute, subject to the same 
ruthless discipline, and receiving the same lessons. There 
were four classes of us, and the grade of intelligence in each 
class was so alike that one might predict with certainty what 
year the infant of the fourth class would be promoted to a 
place in the first. Favoritism was impossible, for no boy 
possessed means, grace, or influence to mollify or placate such 
a monster as Francis. Clad in that uninteresting garb of 
squalid fustian, with hair mown close to the skull, brow- 
beaten and mauled indiscriminately, a god might have passed 
unnoticed by the average visitor. But as each boy verged on 
his eleventh year his aptitudes became more marked, and he 
became distinguished by a certain individuality of character 
and spirit. 

The number of boys in our school averaged thirty, but out 
of that number only five could be picked out as possessing 
qualities rivalling those of the average clever boys of the 
best public schools. One named 'Toomis' was a born mathe- 
matician, another was famous for retentiveness of memory. 
George Williams was unusually distinguished for quick com- 
prehension, while Billy, with his big head and lofty brow, 
astonished Her Majesty's Inspector, who prophesied great 
things of him in the future, while I, though not particularly 
brilliant in any special thing that I can remember, held my 
own as head of the school. 

When the Eisteddfod was held at Rhuddlan in 1851, I was 
the one chosen to represent the genius of the school; but, 



THE WORKHOUSE 17 

soon after the nomination, I fell ill of measles, and Toomis 
succeeded to the honour. Apropos of this : exactly forty years 
later I was invited to preside over one of the meetings of the 
Eisteddfod, held at Swansea, but as I was preparing for this 
honour, a fall at Miirren, Switzerland, resulted in the fracture 
of my left leg, which rendered my appearance impossible. 

The other boys in the school consisted of the dunces, the 
indolent, the malingerers, the would-be truants, the dull, the 
noisy, the fat-witted majority, just six times more numerous 
than the naturally-able boys. This proportion of one in six is 
very common in the world. In ships that I have sailed in, 
among the military companions with whom I have cam- 
paigned, among the blacks and the whites of my African 
expeditions, in the House of Commons, and in Congress, the 
leaven of one in six seemed to be required to keep things 
rightly going. 

When Bishop Vowler Short — who had once been tutor 
to Cardinal Newman — appeared on his annual visit to 
the school, he was heard to express high approval of the 
attainments of some of the boys in the first class, and, after 
honouring them with valuable souvenirs, graciously blessed 
them. 

When Captain Leigh Thomas, the Chairman of the Board of 
Guardians, who was a local magnate, and of Indian distinc- 
tion — being descended from that Captain George Thomas, 
who, in the last century, rose from obscurity to the rank of an 
Indian prince in North- West India — visited us, he pointed 
out to Francis promising traits in several of the head boys, and 
was not too proud to pat us on the head, and elevate us by 
kind encouragements with a hope that there were bright 
rewards in store for some of us for our manifest abilities. 

Her Majesty's Inspector of Schools on his tour of inspection 
professed to discover in some of our boys the signs of unusual 
intelligence, and, calling one up to him, felt his head and his 
temples, and then turned round to Francis, and declared, in 
our acute hearing, that he felt assured 'that boy would be 
a prodigy of learning if he went on.' 

Our parson — Mr. Smalley, of Cwm — unbent one day to 
examine us on Scripture History, and one boy so astonished 
him by his wonderful memory, and quick and correct answers, 



i8 HENRY M. STANLEY 

that he exclaimed, 'Why, Francis, you have quite a young 
Erasmus here.' 

The famous Hicks Owen, of Rhyllon, examined us in 
geography one time, and was pleased to say, on concluding, 
that some of us knew far more geography than he knew him- 
self, and that to prevent being shamed by us he would have 
to study his gazetteers and atlas before he ventured among 
us a second time. 

The auditor of the Board, after testing Toomis's proficiency 
in mathematics, laughingly called him young Babbage, and a 
hghtning calculator. 

Such commendation was a great encouragement and stimu- 
lus. The rarity of it, I suppose, impressed it on our minds, 
and the sweetness of the praise had a more penetrating effect 
than blame or bruise. 

The difference between our school and the public grammar 
school of the period lay in the fact that our instruction was 
principally religious and industrial, while in the other it was 
mainly secular and physical. The aim of the guardians ap- 
peared to be the making of commonplace farmers, tradesmen, 
and mechanics, and instead of the gymnasium, our muscles 
were practised in spade industry, gardening, tailoring, and 
joiner's work. 

Our outdoor games were of a gentle and innocent kind, and 
only pursued when the weather prohibited the use of the hoe 
and spade. We instinctively chased humble-bees, daddy- 
long-legs, we played with cowslip-balls, wove chains of dan- 
delion flowers, and made chaplets of buttercups. The old- 
sters, through some mysterious connection with the outside 
boy-world, became acquainted with spring-tops, tip-cat, kite- 
flying, hop-scotch, and marbles, leap-frog, hen-and-chickens, 
and follow-my-leader. Through some means, the art of telling 
the time by thistledown, and of divining by blowing the tassel, 
had been introduced among us. We sometimes played hide- 
and-seek, and excited ourselves by mild gambling with stones. 
At rare intervals we blackened one another's eyes, but, from 
fear of consequences, our quarrels were more often settled by 
wrestling, when the victor might indulge his spleen by thump- 
ing the fallen without marking the face. We were firm be- 
lievers in nocturnal visitants, and in the magic of the rhyme, 



THE WORKHOUSE 19 

' Rain, rain, go to Spain, 
Sun, sun, come again.' 

The mimetic power was early developed in me. The school- 
teacher, and various country persons, the old porter even, were 
mimicked well enough to draw the applause of my school- 
mates. 

We joyfully looked forward to the coming of May, which 
always preceded the season of sunshine and outdoor play 
on the lush green plats outside of the walls. We faithfully 
observed St. Valentine's Day, the 29th of May, the 5th of 
November, and the 30th of January, for the names of Guy 
Fawkes, and Charles I and II, were well known to us. Good 
Friday was always a gloomy day with us, and Easter was 
solemn; but Christmas became associated with pudding, 
toffee, and apples, and was the most welcome day in the 
year. 

We were Church folk, and were swayed by her festivals. 
Most of us could repeat the Morning Service from memory, 
a few knew the Collects and Psalms by heart, for they had 
been given to us so frequently as tasks because of their sub- 
divisions, and because it was deemed necessary to keep us 
constantly occupied; and as, morning and evening, we per- 
formed our devotions, we grew marvellously familiar with 
Sacred History. 

Our school was a little world in miniature. Most of those 
now prominent in my recollection had been foreshadowed 
by traits which distinguished my school-mates. The small 
creatures were faithful prototypes of scores of adults I have 
since met in various parts of the world. If they have not met 
with their deserts, good, bad, or indifferent, it must be be- 
cause of their lack, or misuse, of opportunities, or accident. 
There were some among them good enough for heaven, there 
were others who seemed wholly vile. Even at that early age 
I held a belief that some of them would become heroes and 
saints, and would be world-famous, while there were two or 
three whom I regarded as too despicable for human inter- 
course. Time, however, has proved me to have been wrong. 
My saint occupies an average place among common men, my 
hero is lost in the deep silence, my criminals are probably as 
good yeomen as could be wished, my ideals of imbecility are 



20 HENRY M. STANLEY 

modest citizens, but from among the unobserved flock have 
emerged two or three to note and worth. 

Meantime, remote and secluded from the world without our 
gates, which rode in fine chariots, or sat in glory on the roof 
of the ' Jellamanjosy' coach, or strode free along the Queen's 
highway, we vegetated within the high walls surrounding our 
home of lowliness. We could take no part in public rejoicings, 
or grieve in its sorrows ; we knew no Royal or State occasions, 
shared in no jubilant celebrations, and were equally ignorant 
of public panics and disturbances, as of the pomp and woes of 
war. In the Crimea there might be a million of men gathered 
together to play at the dangerous game of cannon-balls, and 
to batter one another into shapeless fragments ; London might 
roar day and night with its thunderous traffic ; Birmingham 
might be suffocating under the fumes of its furnaces; and 
Manchester might vibrate under the force of its accumulated 
mechanisms, — to us it mattered as little as though we were 
in another planet. 

Year after year we noted the passing of the seasons by the 
budding blossoms, the flight of bees, the corn which changed 
from green to gold, the fall and whirl of leaves, followed soon 
after by white snow, and blasts of nipping winds, which 
stiffened our muscles, and sent us shivering to the fire. 

The little shops near and in St. Asaph had somehow the air 
of large-hearted benevolence, which I never knew to be real- 
ised. How often I tried to peep in, that I might understand 
the ways of these singular people, having by right divine the 
privilege of dispensing to all men unlimited stores of food and 
clothing ! How I envied the grocer's boy, who could dig his 
hands at his pleasure into inexhaustible barrels of currants 
and boxes of raisins, and the plenteous loaves of white fragrant 
sugar, or the smart youth with the blue necktie, who might 
wear any gorgeous robe he chose, for I believed it was only 
his modesty which prevented him from appearing in crimson, 
or yellow, silk and satin ! 

We had reason to believe that the great world outside con- 
tained lower depths of misery than anything experienced by 
us ; for, now and then, we caught glimpses of horrid, unkempt 
vagrants as they came to the porter's lodge for a lodging ; and, 
during our visits to St. Asaph, we could not enter the town 



THE WORKHOUSE 21 

without being impressed with the squalor of the Irish Square, 
which made us glad that we were not so disreputable as the 
ragged urchins of that sordid locality. Little as we were aware 
of it, our minds were becoming soiled by prejudices, just as 
our boots were stained with the greasy mud of that neighbour- 
hood. The repulsiveness of the Square, and the insolence of the 
smutty-faced, hare-iooted gamins, made us believe that Irish- 
men and Roman Catholics were barbarians and idolaters, and 
when, losing patience with their yelping clamour, we turned to 
resent their attacks, and saw them skurry to their kennels, we 
believed ourselves justified in the opinion that the young brats 
knew nothing of fair fighting. Once this opinion became fixed, 
no amount of argument would avail to prove its injustice. 

Probably the very morning that I had had to bide the 
brunt of their savage rudeness, and had been disgusted with 
their ugliness, had seen me superintending the cleaning of 
our dormitory, with a zeal inspired by my firm belief that 
before we could be called good, we must be clean, within and 
without, and that our hearts, our persons, and our dwellings, 
should be without stain. How I came to manifest the passion 
of a fanatic for order and cleanliness I know not, yet when it 
was my turn to clean up and make the beds, I was seized with 
a consuming desire to exhibit everything at its best, to ar- 
range the beds without a single crease or pucker, to make the 
folds with mathematical exactness, to dust and polish cup- 
boards and window-sills until they were speckless, and to 
make the flagstones shine like mirrors. 'There,' I would say 
to my companions detailed for these duties, my eyes spark- 
ling with pride, ' that is the way to wash a floor. Let us make 
the beds fit for princes to sleep in' ; and hard after this triumph 
of order and neatness I would perhaps be despatched to the 
town to have every sense offended by the miracles of dirt and 
disorder in and around the Irish Square. No wonder that we 
felt unmitigated scorn for Irish habits and ways ! 

There were two or three boys, even among us, whom we 
should have exiled among the Irish had we the power. We 
felt it to be degradation to be near them at school. One was 
remarkable for a pasty complexion, small, piggish eyes, white 
eyelashes, and carroty hair. Another had projecting goose- 
berry eyes, which suggested that they might fall from him 



22 HENRY M. STANLEY 

some day, as from a bush. His stubborn soul could endure 
thumping without bellowing, though a tear or two would 
trickle. His mouth was like that of a beast, and garnished 
with great, jagged teeth ; and, altogether, he was so unlovely 
as to shock every sense in us. Between Francis and ourselves, 
they had a hard time of it ; and I often wonder how fate has 
disposed of them during this long interval. 

When I reached my eleventh year, the king of the school 
for beauty and amiability was a boy of about my own age, 
named Willie Roberts. Some of us believed that he belonged 
to a very superior class to our own. His coal-black hair curled 
in profusion over a delicately moulded face of milky whiteness. 
His eyes were soft and limpid, and he walked with a carriage 
which tempted imitation. Beyond these indications of him 
I remember but little, for just then I fell ill with some child- 
ish malady which necessitated my removal to the infirmary, 
where I lay for weeks. But as I was becoming convalescent I 
was startled by a rumour that he had suddenly died. 

When I heard that his body was in the dead-house I felt 
stricken with a sense of irreparable loss. As the infirmary 
opened upon the court-yard which contained our morgue, 
some of the boys suggested that it might be possible to view 
him, and, prompted by a fearful curiosity to know what death 
was like, we availed ourselves of a favourable opportunity, 
and entered the house with quaking hearts. The body lay on 
a black bier, and, covered with a sheet, appeared uncommonly 
long for a boy. One of the boldest drew the cloth aside, and 
at the sight of the waxen face with its awful fixity we all 
started back, gazing at it as if spell-bound. There was some- 
thing grand in its superb disregard of the chill and gloom of 
the building, and in the holy calm of the features. It was the 
face of our dear Willie, with whom we had played, and yet 
not the same, for an inexplicable aloofness had come over it. 
We yearned to cry out to him to wake, but dared not, for 
the solemnity of his face was appalling. 

Presently the sheet was drawn further away, and we then 
saw what one of us had insinuated might be seen. The body 
was livid, and showed scores of dark weals. One glance was 
enough, and, hastily covering it, we withdrew, with minds 
confirmed in the opinion that signs of violence would appear 



THE WORKHOUSE 23 

after death as testimonies against him who was guilty of it. 
After what we had seen, it would have been difficult for any- 
one to have removed from our minds the impression that 
Francis was accountable for Willie's death. 

For weeks after this my first thought in the morning was of 
Willie's dead face, and, in consequence, I could not help looking 
into every face with something of pity that mankind should 
be born for death and burial in the cold remorseless earth. 
When I re-entered the school I found myself curiously re- 
garding Francis, and wondering that he was so insensible to 
the miserable fate in store for him, and that he could be so 
pitiless in his cruelty to his fellow-sufferers. What would he 
say, I thought, when the Judge, who would come to judge the 
quick and the dead, would ask him, 'What hast thou done to 
thy brother Willie?' 

Some time after Willie's death, George, the scholar, and I 
became as chummy as twin brothers. He was not so amiable 
as Willie, but we believed him to be severely good, and far 
more learned, by which he obtained our respect. He was not 
a zealous friend, and after some intimacy with him I was often 
chilled with what appeared to be selfishness in him. It may 
have been that I was too exacting, but I certainly thought 
that it was not in his nature to be scrupulous in the keeping of 
the pact of chumship. If a cake or an apple was to be divided 
into two, an uneasy feeling came over me that he took pains 
to pick out the larger half, and in any dispute with other 
boys George was not so resolutely insistent on my behalf 
as the vow of brotherhood demanded. After a few weeks of 
effort to make inward apologies for his laxity and backward- 
ness, it was forced upon me that he was by nature indifferent 
to his obligations, and it was agreed that each should be a 
friend unto himself for the future. There was no quarrel, 
however, but we parted with mutual respect. 

About this period I came across a pious romance — the 
title of which is forgotten — relating to three young brothers 
or friends, — one of whom I remember was named Enoch, — 
who for their perfect piety were attended by a Guardian 
Angel. They had set out on travels through a land which 
must have been subtropical, from its luxurious vegetation 
and its beflowered scenes; but whatever might be the perils 



24 HENRY M. STANLEY 

they encountered, or the temptations that beset them, the 
unseen guardian was always near them, and made them 
strong, confident, and victorious. The stories of Joseph, 
David, and Daniel, and the three brave youths at Babylon 
had powerfully affected me, but, unfortunately, their asso- 
ciations with tasks and rods had marred their attractions. 
My delight in saintly Enoch and his friends was unalloyed 
by any such bitter memories. The story was also written in 
an easy every-day language, and the scenes were laid in a 
country wherein God's presence was still felt. God had de- 
parted from Canaan, and He had cast off Israel, and now His 
protection was vouchsafed to all the children of men without 
distinction, and only piety and prayer were needed to secure 
His aid in times of distress. 

Above the fireplaces in the schoolroom, the two dormi- 
tories, and dining-hall, were tacked painted iron sheets which 
were inscribed with appropriate Scriptural texts. We had 
Bible lessons morning and evening, collects and gospels to 
commit to memory. Our shelves held a fair collection of 
religious literature, — memoirs of Wesley, Fletcher, lives of 
Bunyan, Fox, Milton, and others of less note, sermons, and 
commentaries. Twice on Sunday we had full services, and 
after supper the porter of the establishment, who was a Meth- 
odist of super-fervid zeal, would treat us to a lengthy and 
noisy prayer, which, as I think of it now, was rather a tedious 
string of adjurations to, and incriminations of the Almighty, 
than a supplication for grace to the Creator. 

But all these religious exercises and literature had not such 
direct immediate effect as this romantic novelette. I now 
conceived God to be a very real personage, as active to-day as 
in Biblical periods in His supervision of mundane concerns. 
I fancied God's Presence visible in many small events, but, to 
obtain the Divine interposition in one's favour, it was neces- 
sary to earnestly solicit it, and to be worthy of it by perfect sin- 
lessness. Here was a great difficulty. It was not possible to 
be wholly free from sin in our circumstances. I observed that 
our seniors, though they punctiliously went through the forms 
of prayer, were none of them blameless. They were cruelly 
unkind, they were unjust in their punishments, they were 
censorious without cause, and most ungentle. They asked for 



THE WORKHOUSE 25 

God's forgiveness for their trespasses, but were relentless in 
their condemnation of the smallest fault we committed. When 
I came to think of that beast Will Thomas, and that imp 
Davies, and that tale-bearer and mischief-maker Williams, 
my gorge rose against them, and I felt that the circumstances 
of Enoch's life were not like mine. 

However, I made a grand effort to free myself from my 
vanity and pride. I compelled myself for a season to make 
the sacrifices demanded of me. I championed ugly Will 
against his oppressors, and suppressed my scorn of Davies. 
I strove to like Williams, though I feared he was incorrigible. 
I sought to surprise each of them with good offices, and in the 
process endured much contumely, because human beings are 
so prone to misconstrue one's actions. I rose at midnight to 
wrestle in secret with my wicked self, and, while my school- 
fellows sweetly reposed, I was on my knees, laying my heart 
bare before Him who knows all things, vowing that the next 
day should be a witness of my sincerity, and that I would 
have no fear of derision for attempts at well-doing. I would 
promise to abstain from wishing for more food, and, to show 
how I despised the stomach and its pains, I would divide one 
meal out of the three among my neighbours; half my suet 
pudding should be given to Ffoulkes, who was afflicted with 
greed, and, if ever I possessed anything that excited the envy 
of another, I would at once surrender it. Greater proof than 
these of my resolve to be perfect I thought I could not show, 
and when I had done my part, I hoped to see the sign of God's 
favour in milder treatment by Francis. 

I cannot recollect that the season which I devoted to the 
subjection of self witnessed the lenity which I anticipated, or 
that it had any effect beyond a feeling of physical weakness ; 
but, indirectly, I am not sure that it waswholly without gain. 
Without the faith which supported me, I might never have 
thought of experimenting on Will and practising it on myself, 
my dislikes, and passions, and placing them at the service 
of those I had despised ; and I am inclined to think that the 
feeling of friendlessness was soothed. It was a comfort to 
know that though without a parent, relation, or friend on 
earth to turn to, I had a Father in Heaven before Whom I 
was the equal of the mightiest. 



26 HENRY M. STANLEY 

I believed in the immediate presence of Angels who were 
deputed to attend us for our protection, that the emissaries of 
the Evil One ranged about during the darkness of the night, 
seeking to wreak their spite against those averse to them, and 
I believed that the frightful dreams from which we sometimes 
suffered were due to their machinations. 

Sometimes I woke up in the middle of the night, after a 
tremendous struggle with a nightmare, and, gaspingly look- 
ing out, fancied I saw the evil spirits crowding the darkness 
and sailing about like huge fantastic microbes, or standing, 
shadowy-grey, at the foot of the bed. I would rub my eyes 
hard for a clearer vision, and I would observe them retreat 
against the cold bare walls. Within, all was terror and con- 
fusion, entreaties to Heaven for protection, admonition re- 
specting some neglect of prayer, or coldness in devotion ; and 
I would rise from bed on being thus informed of the remedy, 
and indulge in the sacred theft of prayer with the humbleness 
due from a little child praying to the Universal Father and 
Creator. 

If, by accident, I was discovered, the day following was 
certain to be one of torture, an opprobrious nickname, or 
bitter gibe, taunts, immodest expressions or gestures; every 
kind of conspiracy would be made to excite the demon that 
lurks within every human breast, so that by night, what with 
hate of my fellows, burning anger at their atrocious conduct, 
remorse for having succumbed to rage at their wicked prac- 
tices, I had collapsed from my virtuous state, to be again 
brought to my sense of inborn sinfulness by some nightly 
visitation, or a curious gush of tearful repentance, and an 
agony of longing for the love of some human being. 

The religious convictions of my childhood were too intense 
and real to omit recalling them. Often it appeared as though 
it were wholly useless to struggle against evil, yet there was 
an infinitesimal improvement in each stage. The character 
was becoming more and more developed. The temper was 
becoming firmer. Experience was teaching me something of 
that great lesson of life which enables one to view more 
calmly lapses of condition. 

Thus there are two things for which I feel grateful to this 
strange institution of St. Asaph. My fellow-man had denied 



THE WORKHOUSE 27 

to me the charm of affection, and the bliss of a home, but 
through his charity I had learned to know God by faith, as the 
Father of the fatherless, and I had been taught to read. It is 
impossible that in a Christian land like Wales I could have 
avoided contracting some knowledge of the Creator, but the 
knowledge which is gained by hearing is very different from 
that which comes from feeling. Nor is it Hkely that I would 
have remained altogether ignorant of letters. Being as I was, 
however, the circumstances of my environment necessarily 
focussed my attention on religion, and my utterly friendless 
state drove me to seek the comfort guaranteed by it. 
X It would be impossible to reveal myself, according to the 
general promise involved in the title of this book, if I were to 
be silent regarding my religious convictions. Were I to remain 
silent, the true key to the actions of my life would be missing. 
Or, rather, let me try to put the matter more clearly: the 
secret influence which inspired what good I may have done in 
life, for the same reason prevented me from doing evil, curbed 
passion, guided me when the fires of youth, licentious company, 
irreverent mates, and a multitude of strange circumstances 
must have driven me into a confirmed state of wickedness. 

I was therefore grateful, after all, for the implanting of 
religious principles in me by the Biblical education given me 
in the Union. The fear of doing wrong intentionally, the 
feeling of reverence, the impulse of charity, the possession of a 
conscience, are all due to this. Without this teaching I should 
have been little superior to the African savage. It has been the 
driving power for good, the arrestor of evil. It has given me 
an acute and perceptive monitor, able by its own delicacy to 
perceive evil no matter how deceptive its guise. It has formed 
a magnet by which to steer more straightly than I could other- 
wise have done. 

My belief that there was a God, overseeing every action, 
observing and remembering, has come often between me and 
evil. Often when sorely tempted, came the sudden strength 
to say, * No, I will not, it will be wicked ; not criminal, but 
sinful ; God sees me.' It is precisely for this strength that I am 
grateful. Reason would not have been sufficient to restrain 
me from yielding to temptation. It required a conscience, and 
a religious conviction created it. That same inward monitor 



28 HENRY M. STANLEY 

has restrained me from uttering idle words, from deceiving 
my fellow-creatures with false promises, and from hastily 
condemning them without sufficient evidence, from listening 
to slanders, and from joining with them, from yielding to 
vindictiveness ; it has softened a nature that without its silent 
and gentle admonitions would, I am sure, be much worse than 
it is. I do not claim that it has always been successful, — 
far from it, — but I am grateful for what it has done ; and this 
feeling, so long as I possess it, will induce me to hope that it 
will ever remain with me, a restraining power, a monitor to do 
my duty to my Creator, and to my fellow-men. 

Whether these religious convictions would have continued 
with me had I lived the life of the city is another question. 
I think not. At least, not in sufficient force. A journalist's 
life in New York does not give time for reflection or intro- 
spection. 

Religion grew deep roots in me in the solitude of Africa, so 
that it became my mentor in civilization, my director, my 
spiritual guide. With religious conviction we can make real 
and substantial progress; it gives body, pith, and marrow; 
without it, so-called progress is empty and impermanent, — 
for without the thought of God we are tossed about on a sea 
of uncertainty ; for what is our earth compared with the vast 
universe of worlds in unmeasurable space? But above all 
the vastness of infinity, of which the thoughts of the wisest 
men can extend to but an infinitesimal fraction, is the Divine 
and Almighty Intellect which ordered all this ; and to Him I 
turn, — the Source of the highest energy, the Generator of the 
principle of duty. 

In the adults' ward at St. Asaph was a harmless imbecile, 
named John Holywell, who had been a resident of the house 
for about a score of years. He was now over fifty, and was 
likely to remain until his body was conveyed to a pauper's 
grave. As his fate, so mine promised, except that I could 
pray and read. 

Tyranny of the grossest kind lashed and scowled at us every 
waking hour, but even Will Thomas possessed something that 
I had not. He had relations who occasionally visited him 
with gifts ; but I was alone, none ever came to see me. 

I must have been twelve ere I knew that a mother was 






THE WORKHOUSE 29 

indispensable to every child. To most boys of twelve such a 
simple fact must have been obvious, but as my grandsire and 
nurse had sufficed for my earliest wants, the necessity for a 
mother had not been manifest to me. Now that I was told my 
mother had entered the house with two children, my first 
feeling was one of exultation that I also had a mother, and a 
half-brother and a half-sister, and the next was one of curiosity 
to know what they were like, and whether their appearance 
portended a change in my condition. 

Francis came up to me during the dinner-hour, when all the 
inmates were assembled, and, pointing out a tall woman with 
an oval face, and a great coil of dark hair behind her head, 
asked me if I recognised her. 

'No, Sir,' I replied. 

'What, do you not know your own mother?' 

I started, with a burning face, and directed a shy glance at 
her, and perceived she was regarding me with a look of cool, 
critical scrutiny. I had expected to feel a gush of tenderness 
towards her, but her expression was so chilling that the valves 
of my heart closed as with a snap. 'Honour thy father and 
mother,' had been repeated by me a thousand times, but this 
loveless parent required no honour from me. After a few 
weeks' residence my mother departed, taking her little boy 
with her, but the girl was left in the institution ; and, such is 
the system prevailing, though we met in the same hall for 
months, she remained as a stranger to me. 

Among the notable incidents of this age was the suicide of 
the Governor, who through some mental strain ended his life 
with a razor. Then there was a burglary, or an attempt at one, 
in our schoolroom. We found one morning that one of the 
windows had been forced open, the poker lay on the table, 
and there were traces of the bookshelves and desks having 
been ransacked. After that, handsome Harry Ogden, who 
had been sent to Kinmel on an errand, returned highly in- 
toxicated, which made us boys marvel at his audacity. Then 
Barney Williams, one of the cleverest boys in the school, was 
detected stealing stamps from the master's letters, which 
offence was brought to the notice of the Guardians, and was 
punished by a public birching, as much, we believed, to the 
satisfaction of Francis as to the anguish of poor Barney. 



30 HENRY M. STANLEY 

Bishop Short having presented to us some skeleton draw- 
ings and views of cathedrals, I took to copying them, and in 
a few months had acquired such excellence that my reputation 
spread wide in our circle. Francis afiFected to believe that I 
was destined for a 'limner.' The Bishop rewarded me with 
a Bible bearing his autograph. Miss Smalley, of Cwm, pre- 
sented me with a drawing-book and pencils, and I was intro- 
duced to a number of notabilities around as the 'artist' of the 
school. Other small accomplishments tended to bring me 
into prominence. My recitations were much admired. On 
our annual holidays I was selected to lead the choir of glee- 
singers, and, after the Government Inspector's examinations, 
I was pronounced to be the most advanced pupil. 

I have no idea of my personal appearance at this time, but I 
remember to have heard some comments from bystanders as we 
bathed at Rhyl which made me blush violently, also Captain 
Thomas saying that it would be of vast benefit to me if I were 
put under a garden-roller. An old blacksmith of Denbigh, as I 
passed him one day, asked me if I was not the grandson of 
Moses Parry, and on my admitting it, pretended that I could 
not belong to the big-boned Parry breed; while one that 
stood by him terrified me by saying that I would be in prime 
order for eating, after a month's stuffing on raisins and 
sweeties. From an early age I contracted an intense dislike to 
these wretched personalities. 

In process of time my classmates, who had grown with me, 
and been promoted simultaneously with myself, and now 
filled the first form, began to be taken away by their relatives, 
or entered service. Benjie Phillips became a page of Captain 
Thomas. When we saw him arrayed in his beautiful livery, 
George, the scholar, and I thought fortune most unkind and 
indiscriminating ; but, looking backward, both of us must con- 
fess that, like fools, we knew not what was good for us. For- 
tune had reserved us for other work, but before we should be 
called we were fated to be tried a little more. 

* Time teaches us that oft One Higher, 
Unasked, a happier lot bestows 
Than if each blighted dream's desire 
Had blossomed as the rose.' 

Barney was the next to leave. Toomis, the calculator, found 



THE WORKHOUSE 31 

employment with the Whiteley of the neighbourhood; and, 
finally, George, the scholar, was claimed by an uncle to be 
prepared for the ministry. 

When, in 1856, the time came for Francis's annual visit to 
his friends at Mold, he appointed me his deputy over the 
school. On the very first day of his absence, a boy named 
David, my especial bete noire on the play-ground, and whose 
malice was a source of trouble to me, thought fit to question 
my fitness for the post, and persisted in noisy demonstrations 
against my authority. For a while the serious nature of a 
conflict with one who had often proved himself my superior 
in strength restrained me from noticing his breach of order. 
The sharp-witted boys of the first class observed this reluc- 
tance, and rightly accounted for it. They also soon became 
insolently boisterous, and I had to cry 'Silence!' as imperi- 
ously as possible. There was an instant's hush from habit at 
the word, but, overcoming their first fear, and prompted by 
mischievous David, the buzz was resumed, and soon became 
intolerable. 

I strode up in front of David, and ordered him to take his 
stand at the Dunce's corner, which he scornfully declined at 
once. He dared me to compel him, and added biting words 
about my puny strength and impudence. Instinctively, the 
school felt that an exciting struggle was impending, and sus- 
pended their restlessness. I was forced to accept David's 
challenge, but when his sinewy arms embraced me I would 
gladly have compromised with him had my pride permitted, 
for the unbending rigidity of his stiff back was terrifying to 
think of. We contended breathlessly for some time, but, 
finally, I succeeded in kicking his stubborn pins from under 
him, and he fell heavily undermost. In a few seconds I rode in 
triumph over his prostrate form, and demanded his submis- 
sion, which he sullenly refused. Dicky, more friendly than the 
others, came forward at the call with a woollen muffier, and 
with his assistance I made David captive, and after binding 
the tense arms conducted him to the opprobrious corner, 
where he was left to meditate, with two others similarly 
guilty. From the hour when the heroic whelp, David, was 
subdued, my authority was undisputed. Often since have I 
learned how necessary is the application of force for the estab- 



32 HENRY M. STANLEY 

lishment of order. There comes a time when pleading is of no 
avail. 

Not many weeks after Francis had returned from Mold, 
an event occurred which had a lasting influence on my life. 
But for the stupid and brutal scene which brought it about, 
I might eventually have been apprenticed to some trade or 
another, and would have mildewed in Wales, because, with 
some knowledge of my disposition, I require great cause to 
break away from associations. Unknown to myself, and un- 
perceived by anyone else, I had arrived at the parting of the 
ways. Unconsciously I had contracted ideas about dignity, 
and the promise of manhood was manifest in the first buds of 
pride, courage, and resolution ; but our school-master, exposed 
to moods of savage temper, and arbitrary from habit, had 
failed to notice the change. 

In May, 1856, a new deal table had been ordered for the 
school, and some heedless urchin had dented its surface by 
standing on it, which so provoked Francis that he fell into a 
furious rage, and uttered terrific threats with the air of one 
resolved on massacre. He seized a birch which, as yet, had 
not been bloodied, and, striding furiously up to the first class, 
he demanded to know the culprit. It was a question that 
most of us would have preferred to answer straight off ; but 
we were all absolutely ignorant that any damage had been 
made, and probably the author of it was equally unaware of 
it. No one could remember to have seen anyone standing on 
the table, and in what other manner mere dents had been 
impressed in the soft deal wood was inexplicable. We all 
answered accordingly. 

'Very well, then,' said he, 'the entire class will be flogged, 
and, if confession is not made, I will proceed with the second, 
and afterwards with the third. Unbutton.' 

He commenced at the foot of the class, and there was the 
usual yelling, and writhing, and shedding of showers of tears. 
One or two of David's oaken fibre submitted to the lacerating 
strokes with a silent squirm or two, and now it was fast ap- 
proaching my turn ; but instead of the old timidity and other 
symptoms of terror, I felt myself hardening for resistance. 
He stood before me vindictively glaring, his spectacles in- 
tensifying the gleam of his eyes. 



THE WORKHOUSE 33 

'How is this?' he cried savagely. 'Not ready yet? Strip, 
sir, this minute; I mean to stop this abominable and bare- 
faced lying.' 

* I did not lie, sir. I know nothing of it.' 

'Silence, sir. Down with your clothes.' 

'Never again,' I shouted, marvelling at my own audacity. 

The words had scarcely escaped me ere I found myself 
swung upward into the air by the collar of my jacket, and 
flung into a nerveless heap on the bench. Then the passionate 
brute pummelled me in the stomach until I fell backward, 
gasping for breath. Again I was lifted, and dashed on the 
bench with a shock that almost broke my spine. What little 
sense was left in me after these repeated shocks made me 
aware that I was smitten on the cheeks, right and left, and 
that sOon nothing would be left of me but a mass of shattered 
nerves and bruised muscles. 

Recovering my breath, finally, from the pounding in the 
stomach, I aimed a vigorous kick at the cruel Master as he 
stooped to me, and, by chance, the booted foot smashed his 
glasses, and almost blinded him with their splinters. Starting 
backward with the excruciating pain, he contrived to stumble 
over a bench, and the back of his head struck the stone floor; 
but, as he was in the act of falling, I had bounded to my feet, 
and possessed myself of his blackthorn. Armed with this, I 
rushed at the prostrate form, and struck him at random over 
his body, until I was called to a sense of what I was doing by 
the stirless way he received the thrashing. 

I was exceedingly puzzled what to do now. My rage had 
vanished, and, instead of triumph, there came a feeling that, 
perhaps, I ought to have endured, instead of resisting. Some 
one suggested that he had better be carried to his study, and 
we accordingly dragged him along the floor to the Master's 
private room, and I remember well how some of the infants 
in the fourth room commenced to howl with unreasoning 
terror. 

After the door had been closed on him, a dead silence, com- 
paratively, followed. My wits were engaged in unravelling a 
way out of the curious dilemma in which I found myself. The 
overthrow of the Master before the school appeared to indi- 
cate a new state of things. Having successfully resisted once, 



34 HENRY M. STANLEY 

it involved a continued resistance, for one would die before 
submitting again. My friend Mose asked me in a whisper if I 
knew what was to happen. Was the Master dead ? The hideous 
suggestion changed the whole aspect of my thoughts. My 
heart began to beat, as my imagination conjured up unknown 
consequences of the outrage to authority ; and I was in a mood 
to listen to the promptings of Mose that we should abscond. 
I assented to his proposal, but, first, I sent a boy to find out 
the condition of the Master, and was relieved to find that he 
was bathing his face. 

Mose and I instantly left the school, for the ostensible 
purpose of washing the blood from my face ; but, as a fact, 
we climbed over the garden-wall and dropped into Conway's 
field, and thence hastened through the high corn in the Bod- 
fari direction, as though pursued by bloodhounds. 

This, then, was the result of the folly and tyranny of Fran- 
cis. Boys are curious creatures, innocent as angels, proud as 
princes, spirited as heroes, vain as peacocks, stubborn as 
donkeys, silly as colts, and emotional as girls. The budding 
reason is so young and tender that it is unable to govern such 
composite creatures. Much may be done with kindness, as 
much may be done with benevolent justice, but undeserved 
cruelty is almost sure to ruin them. 

We ran away with a boundless belief that beyond the walls 
lay the peopled South that was next to Heaven for happiness. 
The singing birds, the rolling coaches, the tides of joyous 
intercourse, the family groups, the happy hearths, the smiling 
welcome of our kind, all lay beyond the gates, and these we 
fled to meet, with the innocence of kids. 



CHAPTER II 
ADRIFT 

WHATEVER innocent trust I may have entertained, 
that beyond the walled domain of the Union House 
I should meet with glad friends, was doomed to an 
early disappointment. I had often dreamed of a world that 
was next to Heaven for happiness. Many a long summer 
evening I had spent looking out of our windows upon the 
radiant vale of Clwyd, and the distant lines of hills which rose 
beyond leafy Cefn, exciting my imagination by the recital to 
myself of fanciful delights, which I believed to exist beyond 
the far horizon. The tides of humanity, as they swept gaily 
over the highroad in view of our gates, had seemed very- 
beautiful and happy ; but, at the first contact with the highly 
privileged people whom we met on the turnpike, they did not 
appear so gracious to me. Whether they rolled-by in carriages, 
or sat on the coach, enjoyed the air at the cottage-door, or 
smashed stones by the road-side, drove swift gigs, or tramped 
afoot like ourselves, all alike were harsh and forbidding. Even 
lads of our own age and frocked children assailed us with 
scorn and abuse. 

It impressed itself on me that we were outcasts. We wore 
the Workhouse livery, and this revealed the sphere we belonged 
to, to all who met us. Beings in that garb had no business on 
the public road ! We were clearly trespassers. What with the 
guilty feeling of having absconded, and outraging the public 
sense by our appearance in scenes where we were undoubted 
aliens, we began to feel exceedingly uncomfortable, and shrank 
from the view of every one. 

As night approached, other anxieties troubled us sorely. 
Where should we sleep ? How should we subsist ? We could 
not remain always in hiding. The sun was about setting when 
we came across a disused lime-kiln. We crept through the 
arch into the open bowl-like interior. By cuddling together, 
we could just find room in the bottom to sleep ; but, as it was 



36 HENRY M. STANLEY 

still daylight, our feet could be seen through the opening of 
the arch by the passers-by, and we should be taken prisoners. 
We therefore had to lean on the sides of the kiln until the 
darkness came, before we could forget our misery in sleep. In 
this awkward position we waited silently for the darkness. 

Our limbs ached with fatigue, our spirits were dejected. 
In about an hour, probably, it would be dark ; but in such 
a mood, what a time to wait! Many illusions disappeared. 
Nothing of what I had seen through the Workhouse windows 
was real. I had been all the time dreaming, having taken too 
seriously facts which had been sugared with pleasantness for 
our childish minds. The world was ugly, cruel, and hard, 
and all grown-up people were liars. From my nurse and old 
women, my head had been crammed with ghost stories, and 
I had become a believer in signs, omens, auguries, and fetish- 
ism, transmitted to me by foolish peasants from our tattooed 
ancestors, until the clear glass of my mind had been blurred ; 
and, as the darkness settled over me, memories of its spectral 
inhabitants came trooping to the surface. I fancied I saw 
images of those beings who haunt the dark when unguarded 
by lock and bolt. Through the top and arch of the kiln, we 
were open to their assaults. I became nervously watchful, and, 
the more I strained my eyes, the more I fancied I could see 
flaming imps acting a ceaseless pantomime of malice. Once 
or twice I thought I felt the whiff of ghostly wings, and my 
terror caused a feeling of suffocation. The only safe thing to 
do was to talk, tell stories to each other, that the accursed 
spirits might know we were awake and fearless. I continued 
awake by this method until the sky began to pale before the 
advancing dawn, when I softly dropped into sleep, and so 
passed the most uneasy night I remember. 

With the sunrise, we rose, stiff and hungry, to resume our 
flight. By preference, we clung to the lanes, as being the safest 
for fugitives who wore the parish uniform ; but, near Corwen, 
our aching vitals compelled us to brave the publicity of the pike 
road. We halted, at last, before a stone cottage, at the door 
of which a stout and motherly old woman stooped over a wash- 
tub resting on a three-legged stool. Her frilled cap looked 
very white and clean. A flaxen-haired baby sat astride of the 
door-sill, beating a tom-tom with a piece of china-ware. Our 



ADRIFT 37 

desperately famished state overcame our shyness, and we 
asked for a piece of bread. The woman braced herself up, 
and, giving us a compassionate look, said, 'You seem poorly, 
children. Surely you don't belong to these parts?' 

'No, ma'am, we belong to St. Asaph.' 

'Oh, yes. You are from the Workhouse.' 

'Yes, ma'am.' 

She invited us cordially to enter, and, opening a cupboard 
that was under the stairs, drew out a loaf. She cut off thick 
slices, smeared them with butter and treacle, and, filling two 
large mugs with buttermilk, set them before us, and bade us 
'eat and welcome.' 

After such kindness it was not difficult to win our confi- 
dence. I well remember how the homely clock, with its face 
crowned at the top with staring red flowers, ticked loudly 
during the pauses of our narrative, and how the minute-hand 
flung itself recklessly round the dial ; how, near the door, the 
wash-tub became covered with a scum as the soap-bubbles 
exploded one by one ; how the good woman suckled her babe 
to sleep, as we talked. The coloured picture of that cottage 
stands out unfading in my memory, despite the varied accu- 
mulations of so many years. 

Having been strengthened by food, and comforted with 
friendly advice, we decided it would be best to push on 
towards Denbigh. Night overtook us, and we sought the lee 
of a haystack in a field, too tired to fear ghosts ; and, early 
next day, drew near the castled town we both loved so well. 

We reached the foot of High Street, and looked with envy 
at the shop-boys. We could not help peeping at the bright 
shop-windows which exposed such varied wealth, and admir- 
ing those singularly-favoured people, who were able to dis- 
pense such assortments of luxuries among their friends. 

Beyond the market-place Mose led the way up a narrow 
lane leading towards Castle Green, and, shortly, turned in 
into a dingy stone house near a bakery. After mounting some 
steps we were confronted by a woman who, as soon as she 
rested her eyes upon my companion, lifted her hands up, and 
cried out in affectionate Welsh, — 

* Why bless their little hearts ! How tired they look ! Come 
in, dears, both of you !' 



38 HENRY M. STANLEY 

When Mose crossed the threshold he was received with a 
sounding kiss, and became the object of copious endearments. 
He was hugged convulsively in the maternal bosom, patted 
on the back, his hair was frizzled by maternal fingers, and I 
knew not whether the mother was weeping or laughing, for 
tears poured over smiles, in streams. The exhibition of fond 
love was not without its effect on me, for I learned how a 
mother should behave to her boy. 

A glow of comfort warmed our hearts as she bustled about 
the kitchen, intent upon unusual hospitality. She relieved 
us of our caps, dusted a polished chair for each of us with her 
apron, and set them in the snug ingle-corners, laughing and 
weeping alternately, and sending waves of emotion careering 
over us out of sheer sympathy. She burned to talk, but re- 
minded herself, by starts, of our necessities, making us smile 
at her self-reproaches, her hurried attempts to snatch the food 
from the shelves of her dresser, and her evident intention to be 
bountiful. She, finally, arranged a table, and, from a new tin- 
loaf, cut out generous breadths, on which she dropped circles 
of black treacle, and pressed them into our hands. After 
piling other lavishly-buttered slices on a plate near by, the 
boiling water was poured over the tea, and not until she had 
seen us well engaged on her bounties did she slacken her 
haste. Then, bringing a high-backed chair between us, she 
laid one hand on the other in her lap, and exclaimed, — 

' Dear heart alive, how you have grown, Mose, my lad ! It 
makes my heart thump to see you so beautiful and clever- 
looking. Are not you very clever now ? And don't you know 
just everything, writing and ciphering, and all that, you 
know? But what is the matter, children? How is it you have 
come to Denbigh ? Have you been sent on errands, or have 
you run away? Don't be bashful, but tell me truly.' 

When Mose had related the incidents which brought about 
our sudden departure from St. Asaph, a look of anxiety came 
across her face. Then she asked who I was. 

I announced, 'I am the grandson of Moses Parry, of the 
Castle, on my mother's side, and of John Rowlands, of Llys, 
on my father's side.' 

'Oh, indeed,' she said gravely, nodding her head up and 
down. 'I knew them both well, for when your grandfather, 



ADRIFT 39 

Moses Parry, was rich and lived at Plas Bigot, I was a servant 
girl in his service. That was a grand time for him. I have seen 
as many as forty people sit at the old man's table ; the family, 
servants, and farm-hands all together. The family sat at one 
end. Then came the big salt-cellar, and below it the servants 
of the house and work-people were ranged on the two sides. 
A fine houseful we had always, too, and a finer family could 
not be seen in the Vale of Clwyd. Let me see ; there was 
John, the eldest son, Moses, and Thomas, and there were 
the daughters, Mary, Maria, and a young girl called Eliza- 
beth. Which of these was your mother? Not Mary, I war- 
rant.' 

'My mother's name is Elizabeth,' I replied. 

' So ! I think I remember something about her, and your 
father was the eldest son of John Rowlands, of Llys ! Well, I 
wonder ! It seems strange now how we lose count of people 
whom at one time in our young days we knew well. And old 
John Rowlands is your grandfather ! Dear heart alive ! 

' I remember the burial of the old man, Moses Parry, very 
well. He died suddenly in a field. I was at the funeral, and 
saw him buried at Whitchurch. It was my duty, you know, 
and a fine funeral it was, too. Poor old man ! It was a great 
come-down in the world from the great house at Plas Bigot 
to that little cottage at the Castle. Did you think of going to 
see old John Rowlands?' 

' Yes, I thought of him, and of Uncle Moses and Thomas, 
and of my cousin Moses Owen, who keeps a school at Bryn- 
ford, near Holywell.' 

'Well, I don't wish to discourage you ; but those who know 
John Rowlands would tell you there was little hope of help 
from him. However, the Llys is not above a good hour's 
walk, and you could see him first. It might turn out better 
than we expect.' 

'Why, is he so poor, then?' 

* Poor ! Oh no, John Rowlands is rich enough. He has two 
big farms, and is a very prosperous man, but he is severe, 
cross, and bitter. His eldest son, John, who, I suppose, was 
your father, died many years ago, thirteen or fourteen years, I 
should think. There are two daughters living with him, and 
they might be kind to you. No, it will be no harm to try the 



40 HENRY M. STANLEY 

old man. He will not eat you, anyway, and something must 
be done for you.' 

From this good woman I received more information relat- 
ing to my family than I had ever heard previously. It has 
remained fresher in my memory than events of last week. At 
a later period I questioned Aunt Maria, of Liverpool, upon 
these matters, and she confirmed their accuracy. 

The next morning, after a refreshing rest, I set out for 
the Llys, Llanrhaidr. I have but a faint recollection of its ap- 
pearance, though I remember a big farm-yard, and fat stock- 
horses, pigs, cackling geese, and fowls. My mind was too 
much preoccupied with the image of a severe and sour old 
man, said to be my father's father, to take note of buildings 
and scenery. 

Nothing is clear to me but the interview, and the appear- 
ance of two figures, my grandfather and myself. It is quite 
unforgettable. 

I see myself standing in the kitchen of the Llys, cap in 
hand, facing a stern-looking, pink-complexioned, rather stout, 
old gentleman, in a brownish suit, knee-breeches, and bluish- 
grey stockings. He is sitting at ease on a wooden settee, the 
back of which rises several inches higher than his head, and 
he is smoking a long clay pipe. 

I remember that he asked who I was, and what I wanted, 
in a lazy, indifferent way, and that he never ceased smoking 
while he heard me, and that, when I concluded, he took his 
pipe from his mouth, reversed it, and with the mouth-piece 
pointing to the door, he said, 'Very well. You can go back 
the same way you came. I can do nothing for you, and have 
nothing to give you.' 

The words were few ; the action was simple. I have forgotten 
a million of things, probably, but there are some few pictures 
and some few phrases that one can never forget. The insolent, 
cold-blooded manner impressed them on my memory, and if 
I have recalled the scene once, it has been recalled a thousand 
times. 

I was back with Mose before noon, and his mother said, 
*0h, well, I see how it is. You have failed. The hard-hearted 
old man would not receive you.' 

In the afternoon, I paid a visit to Uncle Moses, who was 



ADRIFT 41 

now a prosperous butcher. Flaxen-haired Kitty, whose ap- 
pearance in the dim time when I was an infant had caused my 
expulsion from the house of my grandfather, received me with 
reserve. They gave me a meal ; but married people, with a 
houseful of children, do not care to be troubled with the visits 
of poor relations, and the meaning conveyed by their manner 
was not difficult to interpret. 

I next visited the 'Golden Lion,' kept by Uncle Thomas; 
but here also, the house was full ; and early on the following 
morning I was on my way to Brynford, to interview Moses 
Owen, the school-master. 

Brynford is a hamlet situate in the midst of a moory waste, 
about half an hour from Holywell, and about five minutes' 
walk from Denbigh, The district is mostly given up to lead- 
mining. I stopped in front of a new National Schoolhouse, 
and the master's residence. My cousin was my last chance. 
If he refused his aid, my fate must necessarily be that of a 
young vagabond, for Wales is a poor country for the homeless 
and friendless. 

I was admitted by a buxom woman of decided temper, 
whose first view of me was with an ill-concealed frown. But 
as I requested to see Mr. Owen, the school-master, she in- 
vited me in, gazing curiously at the strange garb of what 
she took to be a new pupil. 

On being shown to the parlour, a tall, severe, ascetic young 
man of twenty-two or twenty-three years demanded my 
business. As he listened to me, an amused smile came to his 
face, and, when I had concluded, he reassumed his pedagogic 
severity, and cross-examined me in my studies. Though he 
gave me several hard questions which I was unable to answer, 
he appeared pleased, and finally agreed to employ me as 
pupil-teacher — payment to be in clothing, board, and lodg- 
ing. 

' But I cannot take you as you are. You will have to go 
to my mother's at Tremeirchion, who will see that you are 
properly equipped for our school with decent clothing, and 
in about a month you can return to me and prove what you 
are worth.' 

Thus I entered on my first stage In the world. 

Within three hours, on the following day, I entered the 



42 HENRY M. STANLEY 

straggling and ancient village of Tremeirchion. It lies scat- 
tered along a hillside, about three miles from St. Asaph, and 
four from Denbigh. In a remote time its humble founders 
had been constrained to build their cabins on this rocky waste 
at the outskirts of rich estates and fat farms, but ultimately 
their cabins had been replaced by slate-roofed cottages, and 
an ale-house or two, and as many shops for the sale of peasant 
necessaries were added. About the Xllth Century a small 
church was built, and a 'God's Acre' attached to it, which 
was planted with yew for the protection of the building from 
the gales,^ and the whole was surrounded by a wall. Later 
on, when the appearance of Wesley had disturbed the liti- 
gious and discontented Welsh peasantry, a couple of chapels 
rose up. 

Beyond the village, and after descending the hillside about 
a mile, past fir groves, and the leafy woods of Brynbella Hall, 
I came to the foot of the hill, and at a few yards from the 
road-side stood the inn, grocery-shop, and farm-house known 
as Ffynnon Beuno, — St. Beuno's Spring, or Well. 

At the back of the house ran a narrow valley which term- 
inated in the Craig Fawr (Great Rock) . Near the front was a 
lodge and gate, leading to Brynbella Hall, well hidden by a 
tall, rook-haunted wood. The great house was once occupied 
by Mrs. Thrale, Dr. Johnson's friend. 

Tremeirchion, literally translated, means the Maiden's 
Town, and was so named from a convent which stood in its 
vicinity, and was supposed to be the refuge chosen by St. 
Winifred, when she retired with a company of virgins after 
her revivification by good St. Beuno at Holywell. Compared 
with the famous spring of St. Winifred's at Holywell, that of 
St. Beuno is a modest affair, and boasts of no virtues beyond 
purity and sweetness. The water is collected in a stone tank 
adjoining the house of Ffynnon Beuno, and is allowed to es- 
cape, for the benefit of the villagers, through the open mouth 
of a rude representation of a human head, which is affixed in 
the front wall. 

The externals of Ffynnon Beuno favourably impressed me. 
The sign over the door informed the public that Mary Owen 

* In the preamble to the last Statute of Edward I, it is narrated that yew-trees were 
used for that purpose. 




FLYNNON BEUNO 



ADRIFT 43 

kept open house for the entertainment of man and beast, and 
sold groceries, tobacco, ale, and spirituous liquors, and, it 
might have added, milk, and butter, poultry, and sheep. As 
I walked towards the door I prayed inwardly that my aunt 
would be as gracious to me as I believed the owner of the cosy 
establishment ought to be. 

She stood in the centre of her kitchen floor, as I handed her 
son's letter to her. The contents surprised and annoyed her. 
Though there was no. scorn in her reception of me, I yet felt 
instinctively that she would rather not have received the 
news. The announcement was too sudden and precipitate to 
please a mother who, until now, had been a law to her favourite 
son. She took her own time to express herself. She asked me 
how I had found her house, whether I was hungry and tired, 
quietly observing me the while. She set before me an abund- 
ance of choice food. Her pattens signalled her movements 
in the pantry, dairy, shop, and beer-cellar; but I knew she 
was thinking of me, and the letter from her son. Each time 
she came in to add some dish to the fare she was spreading for 
me, I felt her searching eyes on me. This was an ominous 
beginning, and made me feel subdued as I sat in the shadow 
of the ingle-nook. 

Some neighbours came in to quench their thirst with my 
aunt's brewing, and from my place I could not fail to hear 
snatches of the conversation, most of which related to me. 
My aunt was relieving herself of her grievance, by which I 
discovered that her sense of prudence had been offended by 
my cousin Moses' rash act. 

'At his age,' she said, 'to take upon himself the keep and 
education of a growing boy! He will be marrying himself 
shortly, and will have children enough of his own to bring up. 
Why should he bother himself about other people's children ? 
I say, "do what you can for your own, and let other people 
do for their families the same." I don't like this whim of 
Moses' at all. In the first place, it is disrespect to me, his 
mother, jwho has striven hard to establish him in life ; and, 
in the second place, it is extravagant, and every penny 
that that boy will cost him must be a loss to the family that 
he will have to look after in the course of a few years,' etc., 
etc. ' 



44 HENRY M. STANLEY 

Poor Aunt Mary ! She made me feel mean and depressed 
at the time, but I understand it all now. She had inherited the 
instincts of economy, and the calamities which had overtaken 
her father, and reduced his family from affluence to poverty, 
had taught her wisdom. From these circumstances she had 
long ago learned that only thrift, calculation, and contrivance, 
can prevent the most respectable family from declining to 
that poverty which leads to the workhouse. She knew that 
money meant much to poor folk, and that the only way to 
make money in her condition of life was to make the most of 
her resources, keep whatever she could scrape from the pro- 
ceeds of industry ; and, acting on those principles, she was an 
enemy to all imprudence and improvidence, waste and ex- 
travagance. As she could not invoke the law to hinder young 
couples from the folly of early marriage, she could disown 
them, even though they were her nearest relatives, and suffer 
them, unassisted, to bear the punishment due to the unwise. 
For mothers in her position, she knew of no other course, 
and necessity left no choice. The scraps of complaint which 
I heard enabled me to interpret her thoughts and actions 
towards me henceforth. When I saw the bony, narrow face, 
dark with vexations, and the way she jerked a tankard or a 
plate from the table, or flapped vigorously her duster, I knew 
that I was at the bottom of her trouble. 

Her husband had died three years before, leaving her with 
the care of four sons. As her sons approached manhood, her 
responsibility increased. So far she had done admirably. 
Edward, the eldest, was a railway official at Morley, where in 
time his abilities must necessarily secure him promotion. 
Her second son, Moses, had graduated with honours at Car- 
narvon College, and was now the teacher of a National School 
at Brynford. Such a distinguished scholar, and one consum- 
ingly zealous in all that belonged to his profession, could not 
fail to have a brilliant future. John, the third son, was a lad 
of eighteen, on the eve of entering the railway service, as a 
clerk. David, the youngest, a lad of thirteen, was destined 
by his mother to assist her with the farm. 

Before I left Ffynnon Beuno for school, I had abundant 
opportunities to inform myself of the low estimate formed of 
me by the neighbours. My aunt was so honest and candid 



ADRIFT 45 

that she admitted them fully into her confidence respecting 
me, and these sympathetic gossips, while they drank the 
home-brewed ale, expressed freely to one another their opin- 
ions of me, regardless whose ears might hear. 

It was through these — especially Hugh, the blacksmith, 
and John, the butcher — that I was informed that I was 
the son of Aunt Mary's youngest sister, who had left her 
home early, for service in London, and had thereby griev- 
ously offended her family. In straying to London, in spite of 
family advice, my mother had committed a capital offence. 
She had, moreover, become the mother of three children, 
and had thereby shown herself to be a graceless and thriftless 
creature. 

'Now,' said they, turning to me, 'you will know what to 
expect if you offend your aunt. With us the rule is "every 
family for itself, and God for us all." Mrs. Owen is a very 
good woman, but she will stand no nonsense. You don't 
belong to her, and you will be turned out of the house the 
minute you forget yourself. So look out, my boy.* 

A young boy cannot be expected to penetrate into the secret 
motives of his elders, but, though his understanding may be 
dull, the constant iteration of hints will not fail in the end to 
sharpen his intelligence. Thus it was that I came to perceive 
that my condition had not been bettered much by my abrupt 
exit from St. Asaph. If in one I had suffered physical slavery, 
I was now about to suffer moral slavery. I say it in no resent- 
ful sense, but as a fact. I saw that I was to be subject to an 
anxious woman's temper, whose petulance would not be con- 
trolled by any tenderness for me. She was the undisputed 
mistress of her household, and those who were of it could only 
remain with her by uncomplaining submissiveness. This 
feeling of dependence on other people's favour, and the sense 
that my condition was never to be other than the singer of 
their virtues, greatly troubled me at times. 

There are some, by nature proud, who patient in all else, demand 

but this : 
To love and be beloved, with gentleness; and being scorned. 
What wonder if they die, some living death ! — Shelley. 

To her own children. Aunt Mary was the best of mothers. 
Had I received but a tithe of her affection, I fear that, like 



46 HENRY M. STANLEY 

an ass partial to his crib, I should have become too home- 
loving ever to leave. As Jacob served Laban, I would have 
served aunt for years, for a mere smile, but she had not in- 
terest enough in me to study my disposition, or to suspect 
that the silent boy with a somewhat dogged look could be so 
touched by emotion. What I might have become with gra- 
cious treatment her youngest son David became. He clung 
to his mother's hearth, and eventually married the daughter 
of Jones, of Hurblas, by whom he had a large family. All his 
life he remained profoundly ignorant that beyond his natal 
nook the universe pulsed deep and strong, but, as the saying 
is, 'Home-keeping youth hath ever homely wits,' and gain 
and honour are not for those who cling to their fireside. 

Throughout the working week Aunt Mary's face betrayed 
the fretfulness occasioned by her many cares. She was a 
veritable specimen of the Martha type, and, according to her 
nature, all her thoughts were bent upon industry and its 
proceeds. She took gloomy views of her financial affairs, and 
was prone to be in ill-humour, which was vented in saying 
disagreeable things to her servants. The damp hollow in 
which her house stood, between a brook and a well, hills and 
deep woods, probably was accountable for much of this. Her 
face was thin and sharp, and showed traces of bad health, as 
well as of anxiety. The querulous voice and frequent sighing 
proved that she suffered in body and thought. But on Sunday 
she was a model of propriety and decorum, and a beautiful 
motherliness often shone in her eyes, and not a trace of anxiety 
could be seen in her face. The next day, however, she would 
be transformed. The mind which governed the estate re- 
covered all its alertness. It seemed as if the Sabbath cap and 
silk dress had some sedative influence on her, for when they 
were put away in lavender, and the Monday gown had been 
put on, she resumed her asperity. Like a stern general about 
to commence battle, she issued her orders to David about 
matters connected with the farm. No detail of byre or barn, 
seed or stock, field or fold, was omitted. David repeated them 
to me, and I conveyed them to Dobbin, the pony, Brindle, the 
cow, and her patient sisters, and to Pryn, the terrier. 

From Monday's early breakfast to the Saturday tea, every 
creature at Ffynnon Beuno understood the peremptory law 



ADRIFT 47 

that each was to work. Our food was unstinted, and of su- 
perior quality. Never since have I tasted such divine bread, 
or such savoury meat, and the Sunday dinner was unsurpass- 
able. If my aunt expected us to labour for her with all our 
might, no one could complain of being starved, or being ill- 
fed. What labour could a small, ignorant boy give for such 
bounties? I trimmed hedges, attended the sheep, cleared the 
byre, fed the stock, swept the farm-yard, cut and stacked 
fuel, drove Dobbin to Rhyl station for coal, or to Denbigh 
for beer, or to Mostyn for groceries — the odd jobs that may 
be done on a farm are innumerable. 

Jane, the maid, was not averse to profiting by my help in 
churning, or milking, or preparing the oven for the week's 
baking. David, though a year younger than I was, used me 
as his fag. From him I learned how to mow, plough, and sow, 
to drive, ride, shear sheep, and mix pig-swill. I came to love 
the farm, its odour of kine and sweet fodder, the humours of 
the cattle and sheep, and, though often oppressed by the sense 
that I was the one unloved creature at Ffynnon Beuno, my 
days were not altogether unhappy. 

At the end of a month, my school-outfit was ready, and 
David and I were driven by my aunt in her green shandry to 
Brynford. 

School-life commenced the next day, and I was duly ap- 
pointed monitor of the second class. In some subjects, a few 
of the head boys of the National School were more advanced 
than I was, but in history, geography, and composition I was 
superior. 

The school closed at four o'clock, and from tea-time till our 
supper of porridge and milk — which Moses Owen aflFected, 
from his belief in the bone-making properties of oatmeal — 
was ready, I was kept indoors to learn Euclid, Algebra, and 
Latin, and Grammar. As my cousin possessed a fair library of 
solid literature, I soon made sensible progress, as, with his 
system of tuition, and my eager desire to acquit myself to his 
satisfaction, I could not fail to do. 

Moses Owen was infatuated about books, and, had his 
health permitted, he would doubtless, in time, have been 
heard of in the world. At least, such was the opinion of those 
qualified to judge. He was, however, of delicate constitution, 



48 HENRY M. STANLEY 

like many slender, overgrown youths, and his health required 
careful watching. His residence being new, and exposed to 
the winds blowing over the moory waste, the damp was per- 
ceptible in the weeping walls and the mouldy wall-paper, and 
he was often subject to fits of lassitude and weakness; but 
when in tone, he showed all the energy of his mother, and was 
indefatigable in teaching me. At meal-times he was always 
cross-examining me on the subject of my tasks, his conversa- 
tion was highly scholastic, and, when out walking with him, 
I was treated to lectures. Fed by such methods and stimulated 
to think, I became infected with a passion for books, and for 
eighteen hours out of the twenty-four I was wholly engrossed 
with them. When, a couple of months later, I stood up for 
examination among the head pupils, my progress was con- 
spicuous. 

In time, all friendship with any schoolfellow at Brynford 
was impossible. Most of the boys were uncongenial through 
their incurable loutishness. Few of them were cleanly or 
orderly, and their ideas of what was right differed from mine. 
They were vilely irreligious, and to my astonishment acted as 
though they believed manliness to consist of bare-faced pro- 
fanity. Most of them snuffled abominably, while as to being 
tidy and neat, no savages could have shown greater indiffer- 
ence. It would be easier to transform apes into men, than to 
make such natures gentle. They all appeared to have become 
acquainted with my antecedents, and their general behaviour 
towards me was not dissimilar to that which the unconvicted 
show towards the 'ticket-of -leave.' The gentlest retort was 
followed by expressions which reminded me of my ignoble 
origin. Often they did not wait to be provoked, but indulged 
their natural malice as from divine privilege. The effect of 
it was to drive me within my own shell, and to impress the 
lesson on me that I was forever banned by having been an 
inmate of the Workhouse. I was neither grieved nor resentful 
for this, because I had no dignity or vanity which could be 
wounded; and, being confined to my own thoughts, I ob- 
tained more leisure for observation, and there was less occa- 
sion for speech. 

My cousin, also, was too imperious and exacting to leave 
me much time for brooding, and, to one of my temperament, 



ADRIFT 49 

moping Is disagreeable. When, however, a few of our neigh- 
bours' children condescended, for want of other company, to 
solicit mine for hunting nests among the furze, or for a battle 
in the pools, or to explore an abandoned lead-shaft, the rest- 
lessness latent in all boys was provoked in me, and I remember 
several enjoyable Saturday afternoons. 

Accomplished as my cousin Moses appears to have been in 
literature, he was too young to know much about human 
nature. After months of indefatigable tuition, he relaxed in 
his efforts. He began to affect a disbelief in my advancement, 
and to indulge in scorn of my progress. My short-comings 
were now the theme of his discourses, each time we met. My 
task became heavier and longer, his sarcasms sharper, and his 
manner more provoking. As I owed a home to him I was de- 
barred from retorting. He did not stoop to the vulgar punish- 
ment of birching or caning, but inflicted moral torture by a 
peculiar gift of language. His cutting words were more painful 
to bear than any amount of physical castigation ; their effect 
bewildered me and made me more despairing, and I think 
his unkindness increased as my helpless dependency on him 
was made more manifest. It frequently happens that as the 
dependent becomes humbler the tyrant becomes harsher, for 
the spirit taken from one seems to be converted into force in 
the other. 

Aunt Mary, during all this period, had been regularly visit- 
ing her son once a week ]ivith fresh home-supplies, and, by 
observing the change in my cousin after one of these visits, 
I suspected that her wishes were gradually perverting his 
original intentions towards me. Moses was absolute over his 
brother David and myself, but when Aunt appeared it was 
obvious, even to me, that, however great her respect for his 
talents was, his personality sank in the presence of her master- 
ful spirit. The stronger nature of his mother ruled him as 
completely at Brynford as when he was a tiny boy at home. 
In the same way that his mother showed her pride in her son 
Moses, her son was proud of his mother's fine qualities, her 
wise management of her property and business, and the es- 
teem she won from all who came near her, as an honourable, 
far-seeing, and right-judging woman. 

A pity it is that Moses did not pursue the shorter and 



50 HENRY M. STANLEY 

nobler course with me. It was but due to his mother that her 
wishes should prevail, but by hesitating, and gradually work- 
ing himself into a dislike of me, he deprived me of the sweet 
memory of his goodness. Had he but called me and said, ' I 
am too poor to play the benevolent cousin longer, and we 
must part,' and sent me off there and then, I should have 
lived to honour him for his straightforwardness, and to re- 
member with gratitude that, as long as he was able to, he was 
graciously beneficent. But, with every spoonful of food I ate, 
I had to endure a worded sting that left a rankling sore. I 
was 'a dolt, a born imbecile, and incorrigible dunce.* 

When the tears commenced to fall, the invectives poured 
on my bent head. I was 'a disgrace to him, a blockhead, an 
idiot.' If, wearying of this, I armed myself with a stony im- 
passiveness, he would vary his charges and say, ' I had hoped 
to make a man of you, but you are bound to remain a clod- 
hopper; your stupidity is monstrous, perfectly monstrous!' 
He would push back his chair from the table, and with fierce, 
brow-beating glances exclaim, 'Your head must be full of 
mud instead of brains. Seven hours for one proposition! I 
never knew the equal of this numskull. I can endure no 
more of this. You must go back whence you came. You are 
good for nothing but to cobble paupers' boots,' etc., etc. 

It would be difficult to decide whether I, becoming more 
and more confused by this wholly-unlooked-for violence, and 
confounded by a growing belief in my worthlessness, or Moses, 
tired with his self-imposed task of teaching his unfortunate 
cousin, deserved the more pity. Had I been in his place, and 
believed my protege to be the matchless dunce he described 
me to be, I could never have had the heart to bait him to 
despair, but would have sought an occupation for him more 
suited for his capacities. Moses appears to have required 
time to heat himself thoroughly for such a resolve, and, in his 
desire for a proper pretence, he was becoming cruel. 

So from this time he was mute about my merits. I was 
the object of incessant disparagement and reproaches, and 
the feeling of this acted as a weighty clog on my efforts. The 
excellence which the Owenses, Pritchards, and Joneses of the 
school might aspire to was to be denied me. My spiritual, 
intellectual, and bodily functions were to be stimulated with 



ADRIFT 51 

birch, boot, and bluster; for in no other way could one so 
dense as I be affected. The pain at last became intolerable, 
and I was again drawing perilously near revolt. But Moses 
saw nothing, and continued to shower his wordy arrows, 
which perpetually stung and caused inward bleeding. 

I used to think that Moses was a grand scholar, but I got to 
believe that he had never been a boy. That towering intellect 
of his was not due to education, it came to him with his 
mother's milk. Yet I was unable to understand, when I re- 
flected on the severity of his manner, how the Lord Bishop 
of St. Asaph — who was a Prince of the Church, and was 
three times older than Moses — could unbend so far as to 
challenge us Workhouse boys to a race over his lawn, and 
would laugh and be as frisky as any of us. The stones of the 
highway would sooner rise and smile than Moses Owen would 
relax the kill-joy mask he wore at this period. 

At last, after a course of nine months' tuition, I received 
permission to visit Ffynnon Beuno, and I was never recalled 
to Brynford. Though my aunt never forgot that she ought 
to be rid of me as soon as possible, there was no hardship in 
doing chores for her at the farm. When she was gracious, as 
she often was, she amply compensated me for any inward 
sufferings inflicted during her severe week-day mood. She 
was an exacting mistress, and an unsympathetic relative, 
though, in every other sense, she was a most estimable woman. 
But what I lacked most to make my youth complete in its 
joy was affection, 

Tremeirchion is only a hamlet overlooking the Vale of 
Clwyd, inhabited by tradesmen, farm-employees, and navvies, 
and their families ; but my impression is that though the Vale 
contains a large number of landed proprietors, few of them 
are prouder than the occupants of the hamlet. Sarah Ellis, 
who rented a cottage from my aunt at the grand rate of 30 
shillings a year, carried herself more majestically than any 
royal person I have since seen, and seemed to be always im- 
pressing her dignity on one. There was Mr. Jones, of Hurblas, 
Jones, of Tynewydd, Jones, of Craig Fawr, Hugh, the black- 
smith, Sam Ellis, the navvy — they are revived in my mind 
now, and I fail to see what cause they had of being so inordin- 
ately haughty as I remember them to have been. Then there 



52 HENRY M. STANLEY 

was my aunt — she was proud, David was proud — they 
were all exceedingly proud in Tremeirchion. I am reminded 
how they despised all foreigners, hated the Sassenach, and 
disparaged their neighbours, and how each thought his, or 
her, state, manners, or family to be superior to any other. 
Yet, if their condition was not humble, where shall we look 
for humbleness ? But I am doubtless wrong in calling this opin- 
ionative habit 'pride'; perhaps 'prejudice' would describe 
it, the prejudice born of ignorance, and fostered in a small, 
untravelled community, which knew nothing of the broad, 
sunny lands beyond the fog-damp Vale. The North-Welsh are 
a compound of opposites, — exclusive as Spaniards, vindictive 
as Corsicans, conservative as Osmanlis ; sensible in business, 
but not enterprising; quarrelsome, but law-abiding; devout, 
but litigious ; industrious and thrifty, but not rich ; loyal, but 
discontented. 

Our tavern-kitchen on a Saturday night was a good school 
for the study of the North Welsh yeoman and peasant, for 
then it used to be full of big-boned men, dressed in velveteen 
coats and knee-breeches, who drank like troopers, and stormed 
like madmen. The farmer, butcher, tailor, shoemaker, navvy, 
game-keeper, and a 'gent' or two held high carnival during 
the last hours of the working week; and David and rosy- 
cheeked Jane and myself had to trot briskly in the service of 
supplying these mighty topers with foaming ale. 

The first quart made them sociable, the second made them 
noisily merry. Tom Davies, the long-limbed tailor, would 
then be called for a song, and, after a deal of persuasion, he 
would condescend, in spite of his hoarseness, to give us * Rule 
Britannia,' or the ' March of the Men of Harlech,' the chorus of 
which would be of such stupendous volume that the bacon 
flitches above swung to the measure. If, while under the in- 
fluence of the ale and the patriotic song, the French had hap- 
pened to invade the Vale of Clwyd, I do believe that if the 
topers could have got within arm's length of them the French 
would have had a bad time of it. 

Then another singer would treat us to 'The Maid of Llan- 
gollen,' which soothed the ardent tempers heated by the late 
valorous thoughts; or John Jones, the butcher, envious of 
the applause won by Tom Davies, would rise and ring out the 




HENRY M. STANLEY, AT 15 



ADRIFT 53 

strain, *To the West, where the mighty Mizzourah,' which 
gave us the vision of a wide and free land awaiting the emi- 
grant, and an enormous river flowing between silent shores to 
the sea. More beer would be called for by the exulting men, 
while eyes spoke to eyes of enchanted feelings, and of happy 
hearts. Courage was high at this juncture, waistcoats would 
be unbuttoned for easy breathing, content flushed each honest 
face, the foaming ale and kitchen fire were so inspiring ! 

After ten, the spirits of our customers would be still more 
exalted, for they were deep in the third quart ! All the combat- 
iveness of the Welsh nature then was at white heat. This 
would be the time for Dick Griffiths — wooden-legged Dick — 
to indulge in sarcasm at the expense of the fiery butcher ; and 
for Sam Ellis, the black-browed navvy, to rise and challenge 
them both to a bout of fisticuffs ; and then would follow sad 
scenes of violence, for John, who was gamey as a bantam-cock, 
would square off at the word. 

But, at this critical moment. Aunt Mary would leave her 
shop-counter, and walk solemnly into the kitchen, and, with a 
few commands, calm the fiery souls. Dick would be bustled out 
ignominiously, as he was too irascible for peace after half-past 
ten. Sam would be warned of dreadful consequences if he 
lifted his voice again ; while as for John Jones, the butcher, it 
was pitiful to see how craven he became at sight of a woman's 
uplifted forefinger. Thus did the men waste their spare time 
in gossip, and smoking, and drinking — which involved a 
waste of their spare cash, or the surplus left in their pockets 
after the purchase of absolute necessities. The gossip injured 
men's morals, as the smoking deadened their intellects, and 
the beer disturbed their lives. The cottage and farm fireside 
has received greater praise than it deserves, for if we think of 
the malice, ill-nature, and filthy or idle gossip vacuous minds 
find pleasure in, it will be seen that there is another side to the 
picture, and that not a flattering one. 

This chapter might be expanded to a book, if I were to 
dwell on too many details of this period. It was crowded with 
small felicities notwithstanding myriads of slights. During 
the prostrating fevers of Africa, memory loved to amuse itself 
with its incidents. It had been my signal misfortune to have 
been considered as the last in the village, and every churl was 



54 HENRY M. STANLEY 

but too willing to remind me of it. My aunt was nothing loth 
to subdue any ebullience of spirit with the mention of the 
fact that I was only a temporary visitor, and my cousin David 
was quick, as boys generally are, to point out how ill it 
became me to forget it, while Jane used it as an effective 
weapon to crush any symptom of manliness. But, with 
a boy's gaiety and healthful spirit, I flung all thoughts of 
these miseries aside, so that there were times when I enjoyed 
hearty romps with David, hunted for rabbits, and burrowed 
in the caves, or made dams across the brook, with the mem- 
ory of which I have whiled many a lonely hour in African 
solitudes. 

Aunt Mary had so often impressed it on me that I was 
shortly to leave, and worry in the outer world for myself, that 
my imagination while with the sheep on Craig Fawr, or at 
church, was engaged in drawing fanciful pictures of the des- 
tiny awaiting me. My favourite spot was on the rocky summit 
of the Craig. There the soul of 'Childe Roland' gradually 
expanded into maturity. There he dreamed dreams of the 
life to come. There I enjoyed a breezy freedom, and had a 
wide prospect of the rich Vale of Clwyd, — from the sea- 
shore at Rhyl to the castled town of Denbigh, — and between 
me and the sky nothing intervened. There was I happiest, 
withdrawn from contact with the cold-hearted, selfish world, 
with only the sheep and my own thoughts for company. 
There I could be myself, unrestrained. My loudest shout 
could not be heard by man, my wildest thought was free. 
The rolling clouds above me had a charm indescribable, they 
seemed to carry my spirit with them to see the huge, round 
world, in some far-off corner of which, invisible to everyone 
but God, I was to work out my particular task. 

At such a time, Enoch's glorious and sweet life would be 
recalled in the lovely land of flowers and sunshine, and it 
would not be long before I would feel inspired to imitate his 
holy blamelessness, and, rising to my feet, I would gather 
stones, and raise a column to witness my vows, like Jacob in 
the patriarchal days. Those hours on the top of the Craig 
were not wholly without their influence. They left on the 
mind remembrances of a secret compact with the all-seeing 
God, Who heard, through rushing clouds and space, the love- 




" CRAIG FAWR " FROM THE FARM 



ADRIFT 55 

less boy's prayer and promise ; and, when provoked, they often 
came between me and offence. 

Finally, another aunt came to visit us from Liverpool ; and, 
therewith, the first phase of my future was shaped. When she 
had gathered the intentions of her sister towards me, she 
ventured upon the confident statement that her husband — 
Uncle Tom, as he came to be known to me — was able to 
launch me upon a career which would lead to affluence and 
honour. He had such great influence with a Mr. Winter — 
Manager of a Liverpool Insurance Ofiice — that my future 
was assured. After several debates between the two sisters, 
Aunt Mary was persuaded that I had but to land in Liverpool 
to be permanently established in a highly-prosperous business. 

After Aunt Maria's departure, a letter from her husband 
arrived which substantiated all she had said, and urged the 
necessity of an early decision, as such a vacancy could not be 
left long unfilled. It only needed this to hurry Aunt Mary in 
procuring for me the proper outfit, which she was resolved 
should be as complete as if it were for one of her own children. 

When the day of departure at last came, my feelings were 
violently wrenched; certainly some fibres of my affection 
were being torn, else why that feeling of awful desolation? 
It may appear odd that I wept copiously at leaving Ffynnon 
Beuno, where there were none who could have wept for me, 
had they tried ever so hard. Nevertheless, when one image 
after the other of the snug farm-house and lovely neighbour- 
hood, the Craig Fawr, the fields, the woods, the caves, the 
brook, crowded into my mind, I was sorely tempted to pray 
for a little delay. It is probably well that I did not, and it 
was better for my health that my affections were with inani- 
mate nature and not with persons, for, otherwise, it would 
have been a calamity. Wordsworth finely describes the feeling 
that moved me in the lines, — 

'These hills, 
Which were his living being, even more 
Than his own blood . . . had laid 
Strong hold upon his affections, were to him 
A pleasurable feeling of blind love.* 

As the little packet-steamer bore us towards Liverpool, and 
the shores of Wales receded from view, the sight of the melan- 



56 HENRY M. STANLEY 

choly sea and cold sky seemed in fit sympathy witli the heavy 
burden which lay on my heart. They stirred up such op- 
pressive fancies that I regarded myself as the most miserable 
being in existence, deprived of even a right to love the land 
that I was born in. I said to myself, ' I have done no harm to 
any living soul, yet if I but get attached to a field, all conspire 
to tear me away from it, and send me wandering like a vaga- 
bond over the unknown.' 

Who can describe that sadness ? Anguish racked me, and a 
keen sense of woe and utter beggary so whelmed the mind that 
my ears became dead to words, my eyes blind to all colours, 
save that which sympathised with the gloom within. No gold 
or silver had I, nor land, nor any right even to such small 
share as might be measured for my grave ; but my memory 
was rich with pleasant thoughts, stored with scenic beauties. 
Oh ! place me on the summit of the Craig again, and let me 
sit in peace, and my happy thoughts will fly out, one by one, 
and bring the smile to my face, and make me proof against 
the misery of orphanage and the wintry cold of the world ; 
there my treasures, which to me were all-sufficing, wearied 
me not with their weight or keeping, were of no bulk to kindle 
covetousness, or strike the spark of envy, and were close- 
hidden within the soul. Often as I have left English shores 
since, the terrible dejection of spirit of that day has ever 
recurred to my mind. 

When about half-way across the Dee estuary, I was aston- 
ished at seeing many great and grand ships sailing, under 
towers of bellying canvas, over the far-reaching sea, towards 
some world not our own. Not long after there appeared on the 
horizon clouds of smoke, out of which, presently, wound a large 
city. There I saw distinctly masses of houses, immensely tall 
chimneys, towers, lengths of walls, and groves of ship-masts. 

My rustic intelligence was diverted by the attempt to com- 
prehend what this sight could mean. Was this Liverpool, 
this monstrous aggregation of buildings, and gloomy home 
of ships? Before I could answer the question satisfactorily, 
Liverpool was all around me: it had grown, unperceived by 
me, into a land covered by numberless structures of surpassing 
vastness and height, and spread on either side of our course. 
We sped along a huge sea-wall, which raised its grim front as 



ADRIFT 57 

high as a castle, and before us was a mighty river ; on either 
side there was an immeasurable length of shore, crowded 
with houses of all sorts; and when I looked astern, the two 
lines with their wonders of buildings ran far out towards the 
sea, whence we had so swiftly come. 

Before my distracted mind could arrange the multitude 
of impressions which were thronging on me, my aunt, who 
had sat through all unmoved and silent, touched me on the 
shoulder and bade me follow her ashore. Mechanically, I 
obeyed, and stepped out on a floating stage which was suffi- 
ciently spacious to accommodate a whole town-full of people ; 
and, walking over an iron bridge, we gained the top of the 
colossal wall, among such a number of human beings that I 
became speechless with fear and amazement. 

Entering a carriage, we drove along past high walls that 
imprisoned the shipping, through an atmosphere impregnated 
with fumes of pitch and tar, and streets whose roar of traffic 
was deafening. My ears could distinguish clinks of iron, 
grinding roll of wheels, tramp of iron-shod hoofs, but there 
was a hubbub around them all which was loud and strenuous, 
of which I could make nothing, save that it was awful and 
absorbing. Fresh from the slumbering existence of a quiet 
country home, my nerves tingled under the influence of the 
ceaseless crash and clamour. The universal restlessness visible 
out of the carriage windows, and the medley of noises, were 
so overwhelming that from pure distraction and an impressive 
sense of littleness in the midst of such a mighty Babel, every 
intelligent faculty was suspended. 

The tremendous power of this aggregate force so fiercely 
astir, made me feel so limp and helpless that again I was 
tempted to implore my aunt to return with me to the peace 
of Tremeirchion. But I refused the cowardly impulse, and, 
before my total collapse, the carriage stopped at an hotel. 
We were received by such smiling and obliging strangers that 
my confidence was restored. The comfort visible everywhere, 
and the composed demeanour of my aunt and her friends, 
were most soothing. 

In the evening. Aunt Maria appeared, and her warm greet- 
ings served to dissipate all traces of my late panic, and even 
infused a trifle of exaltation, that my insignificant self was 



58 HENRY M. STANLEY 

henceforth to be considered as one of the many-throated 
army which had made Liverpool so terrible to a youthful 
rustic. She was pressed to stay for a nine-o'clock supper, but 
when she rose to depart I was by no means reluctant to brave 
the terror of the street. Aunt Mary slipped a sovereign into 
my hand, stood, over a minute, still and solemn, then bade me 
be a good boy and make haste to get rich. I was taken away, 
and I never saw her again. 

The streets no longer resounded with the startling hurly- 
burly of the day. At a quick trot we drove through miles of 
lighted ways, and by endless ranges of ill-lit buildings. Once 
I caught a glimpse of a spacious market, aglow with gas-lights, 
where the view of innumerable carcases reminded me of the 
wonderful populousness of the great city ; but beyond it lay 
the peaceful region of a sleeping people. At about the middle 
of this quieter part the cab halted, and we descended before 
the door of No. 22, Roscommon Street. 

My precious box, with its Liverpool outfit, was carried into 
the house, and a second later I was in the arms of cheery 
'Uncle Tom.' In expectation of my coming there was quite 
a large party assembled. There was my irrepressible cousin, 
Mary Parkinson, with her husband, tall John Parkinson, the 
cabinet-maker, a brave, strong, and kindly fellow. There were 
also my cousins Teddy and Kate and Gerard Morris and 
others. 

Cousin Mary was an independent young woman, and, like 
all women conscious of good looks, sure of her position in a 
small circle ; but, important as she might be, she was but sec- 
ondary to Uncle Tom, her father. He was the central figure 
in the gathering, and his sentiments were a law to his house- 
hold. He stood in the forefront, of medium size, corpulent, 
rubicund, and so genial, it was impossible to withstand him. 

' My word, laddy ! thou art a fine boy ! Why, I had no idea 
they could raise such as thou in Wales. What hast been living 
on to get so plump and round — cheeks like apples, and eyes 
like stars? Well, of all ! — I say, Mary, John, my dears, why 
are ye standing mute? Give the laddy here a Lancashire 
welcome! Buss him, wench! He is thy first cousin. Teddy, 
my lad, come up and let me make thee acquainted with thy 
cousin. Kate, step forward, put up thy mouth, dear; there, 



ADRIFT 59 

that is right ! Now welcome, a thousand times, to Liverpool, 
my boy ! This is a grand old city, and thou art her youngest 
citizen,' etc., etc. 

He was so breezy and bluff of speech, and so confident of 
great things for me in Liverpool, that I forgot I was in the city 
of noise and smoke, as well as my first dread of it. He was the 
first of his type I ever met. He had the heartiness and rollick- 
ness of the traditional 'sea-dog,' as sound in fibre as he was 
impervious to care. No presence could daunt him or subdue 
his unabashed frankness. He was like that fellow 

* Who having been praised for bluntness doth affect 
A saucy roughness. 

He cannot flatter, he! 
An honest mind and plain, — he must speak truth ; 
An they will take it, so ; if not, he 's plain.' 

Uncle Tom was a man of fair education, and had once 
occupied a responsible post in the railway service. It was 
through his influence that Edward Owen had found a position 
in it, and I presume that the memory of that had influenced 
Aunt Mary in committing me to his care. Uncle Tom must have 
been found wanting in some respects, for he had descended 
in the scale of life, while his protege, Edward, was now mount- 
ing rapidly. He now was a poor * cottoner,' at a pound a week, 
with which he had to support himself and large family. His 
fault — if fault it may be called — may be guessed by the 
fact that, while his family was increasing, he had rashly 
undertaken to burden himself with the care of a boy of my 
age, while the slightest accident or indisposition would leave 
him wholly without means to support anybody. His heart 
was altogether too easily expansive for one of his condition. 
Had his means permitted, he would have kept perpetual 
holiday with his friends, he so loved good cheer and genial 
fellowship. He was over-contented with himself and others; 
and too willing to become surety for anyone who appeared 
to possess good-humour and good-nature; and, through that 
disposition, which is fatal to a man of family, he continued 
to fall lower and lower, until his precarious wages barely 
sufficed for the week's wants. 

During the first few days I did little more than tramp 
through the streets of Liverpool from Everton to the Docks, 



6o HENRY M. STANLEY 

with Teddy Morris, aged 12, as a guide, who showed me the 
wonders of the city with the air of an important shareholder 
glorying in his happy investments. The spirit of his father in 
regard to its splendour and wealth had taken possession of 
him, and so much was I impressed with what he said to me, 
that, had a later comer questioned me about Liverpool, I 
should doubtless have expressed the conviction that its 
grandeur was due in a great measure to the presence of Uncle 
Tom and his son Teddy. 

The day came when Uncle Tom took me to interview 
Mr. Winter, through whose influence I was to lay the founda- 
tion of that promised prosperity that was to be mine. I had 
donned my new Eton suit for the first time, and my hair shone 
with macassar. Such an important personage as Mr. Winter 
could only live among the plutocracy of Everton Heights ; 
and thither we wended, with hope and gladness in our eyes. 

Years ago, when Uncle Tom was in affluent circumstances, 
he had befriended Mr. Winter in some way that had made 
that gentleman pledge himself to repay his kindness. He was 
about to test the sincerity of his professions by soliciting his 
influence on behalf of his wife's nephew. 

We were received with a profuse show of friendship, and 
such civilities that they seemed obsequious to me when I 
compared the sheen of Mr. Winter's black clothes with the 
fluffy jacket on Uncle Tom's shoulders. The gentleman took 
out his spotless kerchief and affected to dust the chair before 
placing it before his visitor, and anxiously inquired about the 
health of good Mrs. Morris and her divine children. When 
he came finally to touch upon my affairs, I was rendered 
quite emotional with pride by the compliments he showered 
upon me. 

Mrs. Winter, an extremely genteel person in long curls, 
presently appeared upon the scene, and after cooing with her 
spouse and exchanging affectionate embraces, was introduced 
to us. But, though we were present, husband and wife had 
such an attraction for each other that they could not refrain 
from resuming their endearments. My cheeks burned with 
shame as I heard them call one another, * My sweetie, darling 
love, blessed dearie,' and the like; but Uncle Tom was hugely 
delighted, and took it all as a matter of course. In Wales, 



ADRIFT 6i 

however, married people did not conduct themselves so 
grossly in public. 

When we rose to go away, Mr. Winter resumed his earnest 
and benevolent manner to us, and begged my uncle to call on 
him next morning at nine sharp, and he would be sure to hear 
of something favourable. While returning home down the 
slope from Everton, Uncle Tom was most emphatic in de- 
claring that ' dear old Winter was a born gentleman, a dear, 
kind heart, and excellent old soul,' and that I might consider 
myself as a 'made man.' Exultations at my prospects in- 
clined me to echo my uncle's sentiments, and to express my 
belief that Mrs. Winter was like a saint, with her dove-like 
eyes and pretty ringlets, though in some recess of me was 
something of a disdain for those mawkish endearments of 
which I had been an unwilling witness. These subjects oc- 
cupied us all the way back to No. 22, Roscommon Street, 
upon entering which we revealed all that had happened to 
Aunt Maria, and made her participate in the delights of hope. 

Twenty times during the month did Uncle Thomas and I 
travel up to Everton Heights, and the oftener we called on 
Mr. and Mrs. Winter, the less assured we became of the 
correctness of our first impressions. These visits cost Uncle 
Tom, who ought to have been at work checking the cotton 
bales, seventy shillings, which he could ill afford to lose. The 
pair at every occasion met us with exquisite politeness, and 
their cooing by-plays recurred regularly, he affectionate 
beyond words, she standing with drooping head, and meek 
sense of unworthiness, as he poured over her the oil of sweet- 
ness. 

The visits had been gradually becoming more and more 
tedious to us, for what may have been gratification to them 
was nauseous to disappointed people, until at the end of the 
twenty-first visit Uncle Tom burst out uncontrollably with, 
' Now, d — n it all ! Stop that. Winter. You are nothing but 
an artful humbug. In God's name, man, what pleasure can 
you find in this eternal lying? Confound you, I say, for a 
d — d old rascal and hypocrite! I can't stand any more of 
this devilish snivelling. I shall be smothered if I stay here 
longer. Come, boy, let's get out of this, we will have no more 
of this canting fraud.' 



62 HENRY M. STANLEY 

Instinct had prepared me somewhat for this violent explo- 
sion, but I was shocked at its force when it occurred. It 
deepened my belief that my uncle was a downright, honest, 
and valiant man ; and I respected the righteousness of his 
anger, but I was bound to be grieved by his profanity. He 
fumed all the way home at the farceur, and yet comforted 
himself and me, saying, * Never mind, laddie ! We '11 get along 
somehow without the help of that sweep.* 

Aunt Maria's conduct when we reached home was the 
beginning of a new experience. She called me aside and bor- 
rowed my gold sovereign, for, as she put it, ' Uncle Tom has 
now been out of work for over three weeks, because, you 
know, it was necessary to call ever>^ day on the false friend, 
who fed him with hopes. He is awfully distressed and put 
out, and I must get him a good meal or two to put spirit into 
him. In a day or two he will be all right.' 

On Monday morning of the next week she borrowed my 
Eton suit, and took it to the place of the three gilt balls. The 
Monday after, she took my overcoat to the same place, and 
then I knew that the family was in great trouble. The know- 
ledge of this was, I think, the first real sharpener of my fac- 
ulties. Previously, I had a keen sight, and acute hearing, but 
that was all : there had been no effect on the reason. I have 
often wondered that I was so slow of understanding things 
which had been obvious to little Teddy from the first. 

I now walked the streets with a different object than sight- 
seeing. Shop windows were scrutinised for the legend 'Boy 
wanted.' I offered my services scores of times, and received 
for answer that I was either too young, too little, not smart 
enough, or I was too late; but one day, after a score of re- 
fusals, I obtained my first employment at a haberdasher's in 
London Road, at five shillings a week ; and my duties were to 
last from seven in the morning until nine at night, and to con- 
sist of shop-sweeping, lamp-trimming, window-polishing, etc. 

As London Road was some distance from Roscommon 
Street, I had to rise before six o'clock, by which I enjoyed the 
company of uncle, who at this hour prepared his own morning 
meal. At such times he was in the best of moods. He made 
the most savoury coffee, and was more generous than aunt 
with the bread and butter. He was unvaryingly sanguine of 



ADRIFT 63 

my ultimate success In life. He would say, ' Aye, laddie, thou 
'ilt come out all right in the end. It 's a little hard at first, I 
know, but better times are coming, take my word for it' ; and 
he would cite numerous instances of men in Liverpool, who, 
beginning at the lowest step, had risen by dint of perseverance 
and patience to fabulous wealth. Those early breakfasts, 
while Aunt Maria and the children were asleep, and uncle 
bustled cheerfully about with the confidence of a seer in the 
future, have been treasured in my memory. 

At half-past six I would leave the house, with a tin bucket 
containing bread and butter and a little cold meat to support 
me until nine at night. Thousands in similar condition were 
then trudging through the streets to their various tasks, 
bright, happy, and regular as clock-work. To all appearance 
they took pride in their daily toils, and I felt something of it, 
too, though the heavy shutters, which I took down and put 
up, made me wince when I remembered them. I think most 
of us would have preferred the work with the wages to the 
wages without the work. The mornings were generally sun- 
less, the buildings very grimy, the atmosphere was laden with 
soot, and everything was dingy ; but few of us thought of them 
as we moved in long and lively procession of men and boys, 
women and girls, with complexions blooming like peaches, and 
lips and ears reddened with rich blood. 

As it drew near half-past nine at night, I would return home 
with different views. My back ached, I was hungry and tired, 
and a supper of cockles and shrimps, or bloater, was not at 
all stimulating. At half-past ten I would be abed, weary with 
excessive weariness. 

So long as my fresh country strength endured, my habits 
were regular, but after two months the weight of the shutters 
conquered me, and sent me to bed for a week to recuperate. 
Meantime, the haberdasher had engaged a strong boy of 
eighteen in my place. Then followed a month of tramping 
about the streets again, seeking fresh work, during which I 
passed through the usual vicissitudes of hope and disappoint- 
ment. The finances of the family fell exceedingly low. Nearly 
all my clothes departed to the house of the gilt balls, and 
their loss entailed a corresponding loss of the smartness ex- 
pected in office or shop-boys. 



64 HENRY M. STANLEY 

Necessity drove me further afield, even as far as the Docks. 
It was then, while in search of any honest work, that I came 
across the bold sailor-boys, young middies, gorgeous in brass 
buttons, whose jaunty air of hardihood took my admiration 
captive. In the windows of the marine slop-shops were ex- 
posed gaudy kerchiefs stamped with the figures of the Royal 
Princes in nautical costume, which ennobled the sailor's 
profession, though, strange to say, I had deemed it ignoble, 
hitherto. This elevation of it seduced me to enter the Docks, 
and to inspect more closely the vessels. It was then that I 
marvelled at their lines and size, and read with feelings verg- 
ing on awe the names 'Red Jacket,' 'Blue Jacket,' 'Chim- 
borazo,' 'Pocahontas,' 'Sovereign of the Seas,' 'William 
Tapscott,* etc. There was romance in their very names. And 
what magnificent ships they were! Such broad and long- 
reaching extent of decks, such girth of hulk and dizzy height 
of masts ! What an atmosphere of distant regions, suggestive 
of spicy Ind, and Orient isles ! The perfume of strange pro- 
ducts hung about them. Out of their vast holds came col- 
oured grain, bales of silks hooped with iron, hogsheads, bar- 
rels, boxes, and sacks, continuously, until the piles of them 
rose up as high as the shed-roof. 

I began to feel interested in the loud turmoil of commerce. 
The running of the patent tackles was like music to me. I 
enjoyed the clang and boom of metal and wood on the granite 
floors, and it was grand to see the gathered freight from all 
parts of the world under English roofs. 

On boards slung to the rigging were notices of the sailing 
of the ships, and their destinations. Some were bound for 
New York, New Orleans, Demerara, and West Indies, others 
were for Bombay, Calcutta, Shanghai, the Cape, Melbourne, 
Sydney, etc. What kind of places were those cities? How 
did these monstrous vessels ever leave the still pools walled 
round with granite? I burned to ask these and similar ques- 
tions. 

There were real Liverpool boys about me, who were not 
unwilling to impart the desired information. They pointed 
out to me certain stern-faced men, with masterful eyes, as 
the captains, whose commands none could dispute at sea; 
men of unlimited energy and potent voices as the mates, or 



ADRIFT 65 

officers, who saw to the carrying out of their superior's com- 
mands ; and the jerseyed workmen in the rigging — some of 
whom sported gold earrings, and expectorated with superb 
indifference — as the sailors who worked the ships from port 
to port. Each of these seamen bore on his face an expression 
which I interpreted to mean strength, daring, and defiance. 

Before I parted from these boys, who were prodigies of 
practical wisdom, and profound in all nautical matters, I had 
learned by comparing the 'Red Jacket' and 'Dreadnought' 
with the 'American Congress' and ' Winfield Scott,' the differ- 
ence between a first-class clipper and an ordinary emigrant 
packet, and why some ships were 'Black-Bailers' and others 
'Red-Crossers,' and how to distinguish between a vessel built 
in Boston and one of British build. 

One day, in my wanderings in search of work, I rambled 
up a by-street close to the Brambley Moor Dock, and saw 
over a butcher's stall a notice, 'Boy wanted.' I applied for 
the vacancy, and Mr. Goff, the proprietor, a pleasant- faced, 
prosperous-looking man, engaged me instantly and turned 
me over to his foreman. This man, a hard, sinister-faced 
Scotsman, for his fixed scowl, and implacable irascibility, 
was a twin brother of Spleen. There never was such a con- 
stant fault-finder, and, for general cantankerousness, I have 
never met his like. The necessity of finding some work to do, 
and of never leaving it, except for a change of work, called 
forth my utmost efforts to please ; but the perpetual scolding 
and cross tantrums, in which he seemed to take delight, ef- 
fectually baffled my simple arts. This man's eyes peculiarly 
affected me. They were of the colour of mud, and their pin- 
point pupils sparkled with the cruel malignity of a snake's. 
When, in after years, I first looked into the visual orbs of the 
African crocodile, my first thought was of the eyes of Goff's 
foreman. Heaven forbid that after such a long period I should 
malign him, but I cannot resist the conviction that when he 
died, those who had known him must have breathed freer! 

Wretched as was my fortnight's stay at the butcher's under 
the inhumanly-malicious foreman, it was the means of my 
becoming more intimately acquainted with the stern lords 
of the sea, and their stately ships; for my work consisted 
in carrying baskets of fresh provisions to the vessels in the 



66 HENRY M. STANLEY 

docks ; and Time and Fate had so ordered it that through this 
acquaintance I should be shunted into another Hne of Hfe. 

During the last few weeks domestic matters at Roscommon 
Street had not been at all pleasant. The finances of the family 
had fallen very low, and it had been evident that here, also, 
as at Ffynnon Beuno, there was a wide distinction between 
children who had parents and those who were orphaned. For 
if ever a discussion rose between my cousin and myself, my 
uncle and aunt were invariably partial to their own, when 
called to arbitrate between us. It was obvious that I was the 
least aggressive and troublesome, the most respectful and 
sympathetic, of the younger members of the family, but these 
merits were as naught when weighed in the scales of affection. 
Teddy's temper, made arrogant by the conceit that he was his 
father's son, required to be curbed sometimes ; but if I asserted 
myself, and promised him a thrashing, the maternal bosom 
was a sure refuge ; and, as each mother thinks her son more 
perfect than any other boy, a certain defeat awaited me. 
Just as I had submitted to the humours of David at Ffynnon 
Beuno, I was forced to submit to those of Teddy. If aunt's 
censures of me were not sufficient to ensure immunity to 
the nagging boy, there was the old man's rough tongue to 
encounter. 

Slowly the thought was formed that if I were not to be 
permitted to resent Teddy's infirmities of temper, nor to ob- 
tain the protection of his over-indulgent parents, my condi- 
tion could not be worse if I exchanged the growing intolerance 
of the evil for some other, where, at least, I should enjoy the 
liberty of kicking occasionally. On striking a balance between 
the gains of living with Teddy's family and the crosses re- 
ceived through Teddy's insolence, it appeared to my imper- 
fect mind that my humiliation was in excess. I had not ob- 
tained the clerkship for which I had left Wales, my gold 
sovereign was gone, all my clothes were in the pawnshop. I 
had fallen so low as to become a butcher's errand boy, under a 
brute. At home, there was as little peace at night, as there 
was, during the day, with the foreman. Exposed to the unruly 
spitefulness of Teddy, the frowns of aunt, the hasty anger of 
uncle, and the unholy fury of the Scotsman, I was in a fair 
way of being ground very fine. 



ADRIFT 67 

At this juncture, and while in an indifferent mood, Fate 
caused a little incident to occur which settled my course for 
me. I was sent to the packet-ship ' Windermere' with a basket 
of provisions, and a note to Captain David Hardinge. While 
the great man read his note, I gazed admiringly at the rich 
furniture of the cabin, the gilded mirrors, and glittering 
cornices, and speculated as to the intrinsic value of this gild- 
ing, but, suddenly, I became conscious that I was being 
scrutinised. 

'I see,' said the captain, in a strong and rich voice, 'that 
you admire my cabin. How would you like to live in it?' 

'Sir?' I answered, astonished. 

'I say, how would you like to sail in this ship?' 

'But I know nothing of the sea, sir.' 

'Sho ! You will soon learn all that you have to do ; and, in 
time, you may become a captain of as fine a ship. We skippers 
have all been boys, you know. Come, what do you say to 
going with me as cabin-boy? I will give you five dollars a 
month, and an outfit. In three days we start for New Orleans, 
to the land of the free and the home of the brave.' 

All my discontent gathered into a head in a moment, and 
inspired the answer: 'I will go with you, sir, if you think I 
will suit.' 

'That's all right. Steward!' he cried; and, when the man 
came, the captain gave him his instructions about me. As he 
spoke, I realised somewhat more clearly what a great step 
I had taken, and that it was beyond my power to withdraw 
from it, even if I should wish to do so. 

There was no difficulty in obtaining Goff's consent to quit 
his service ; and the fiendish foreman only gave a sardonic 
smile which might mean anything. As I strode towards home, 
my feelings varied from spasms of regret to gushes of joy, as 
I mentally analysed the coming change. Larded bread, and a 
sordid life with its pawnshops and family bickerings, were to 
be exchanged for full rations and independence. Constant 
suppression from those who usurped the right to control my 
actions, words, and thoughts, was to be exchanged for the 
liberty enjoyed by the rest of the world's toilers. These were 
the thoughts which pleased me; but when I regarded the 
other side, a haunting sense of insecurity and foreboding 



68 HENRY M. STANLEY 

sobered me, and made me unhappy. Then there was a certain 
feeling of affection for my native land and family. Oh ! if my 
discontent had not been so great, if Uncle Tom had been only 
more just, I had clung to them like a limpet to a rock! It 
needed all the force of reason, and the memories of many 
unhappinesses and innumerable spites, to sever all connection 
with my humble love, and accept this offer of freedom and 
release from slavery. The magnitude of the change, and the 
inevitable sundering of all earthly ties at such short notice, 
troubled me greatly ; but they had no effect in altering my 
decision. 

When the old man reached home and heard the news, he 
appeared quite staggered. 'What! Going to America!' he 
exclaimed. 'Shipped as a cabin-boy ! Come now, tell me what 
put that idea into your head ? Has anything happened here 
that I do not know? Eh, wife, how is this?' 

His sincere regret made it harder than ever to part. It was 
in my nature to hate parting. Aunt joined her arguments to 
those of Uncle Tom to dissuade me. But there rose up before 
me a great bulk of wretchedness, my slavish dependence on 
relatives who could scarcely support themselves, my unfor- 
tunate employment, Teddy's exasperating insolence, family 
recriminations, my beggar's wardrobe, and daily diet of 
contumely ; and I looked up from the introspection, and, with 
fixed resolve, said : — 

' It is no use, uncle. I must go. There is no chance of doing 
anything in Liverpool' ; and, though he was not of a yielding 
disposition, uncle consented at last. 

In strict justice, however, to his character, I must admit 
that, had circumstances been equal to his deserving, his 
nephew would never have been permitted to leave England 
with his consent ; for, according to him, there was no place 
in all the world like England. 

On the third day the 'Windermere* was warped out of 
dock, and then a steam-tug towed her out into mid-river. 
Shortly after, a tug brought the crew alongside. Sail was 
loosened, and our ship was drawn towards the ocean, and, as 
she headed for the sea, the sailors, with rousing choruses, 
hoisted topsails, and sheeted them home. 



CHAPTER III 
AT SEA 

WHEN the 'Windermere' was deserted by the tug, 
and she rose and fell to the waves, I became 
troubled with a strange lightness of the head, and 
presently I seemed to stand in the centre of a great circle 
around which sea, and sky, and ship revolved at great speed. 
Then for three days I lay oblivious, helpless, and grieving ; but, 
at the deck-washing on the fourth morning, I was quickened 
into sudden life and activity by hearing a hoarse, rasping 
voice, whose owner seemed in a violent passion, bawling down 
the scuttle : * Now then, come out of that, you — young Brit- 
isher ! Step up here in a brace of shakes, or I '11 come down 

and skin your carcase alive !' 

The furious peremptoriness of the voice was enough to 
rouse the dead, and the fear of the ogre's threats drove all 
feelings of sickly wretchedness away, and drew me on deck 
immediately. My nerves tingled, and my senses seemed to 
swim, as I cast a look at the unsteady sea and uneasy ship ; 
but the strong penetrating breeze was certainly a powerful 
tonic, though not such a reviver as the sight of the ireful 
fellow who came on at a tearing pace towards me and hissed : 
'Seize that scrubbing-broom, you — joskin ! Lay hold of it, 
I say, and scrub, you — son of a sea-cook ! Scrub like — ! 
Scrub until you drop ! Sweat, you — swab ! Dig into the deck 

you white-livered lime-juicer! ' 

I stole the briefest possible glance at his inflamed face, to 
catch some idea of the man who could work himself into such 
an intense rage, for he was a kind of creature never dreamed 
of before by me. Seeing me bend to my task without argu- 
ment or delay, he darted to another boy on the lee side, and 
with extreme irony and retracted lips, stooped, with hands 
on knees, and said to him: 'Now, Harry, my lad, I am sure 
you don't want the toe of my boot to touch ungently those 
crescents of yours. Do you now?' 



70 HENRY M. STANLEY 

'No, sir,' said the boy promptly. 

'All right, then, my sweet son of a gun. Lay your weight 
on that broom, and let her rip, d' ye hear?' 

'Aye, aye, sir.' 

Nelson, for that was his name, straightened himself, and 
cruelly smiling, observed the sailors, who were scrubbing and 
holy-stoning with exemplary industry, and then moved 
towards them discharging salvoes of blasphemies on their 
heads, of varying force and character. I wondered, as between 
the tremendous oaths I heard the sigh of the sea and the 
moan of the wind, how long the Almighty would restrain His 
hand. I scrubbed away until I became heated, but my 
thoughts were far from my work. I was trying to unravel 
vague ideas about the oddness of things in this world. It 
seemed to me surprising that, while so many people on land 
feared to take the name of God in vain, men on the great sea, 
surrounded by perils and wonders, could shout aloud their 
defiance of heaven and hell. There was not a soul on board 
with whom I could exchange my inner thoughts, and, from 
this period, I contracted a habit of communing with myself. 

At eight bells I was told I belonged to Nelson, the second 
mate's watch, and that my berth was with Harry, in the 
apprentice cabin on the main deck. There was no mention of 
the cabin-boy appointment. When the watch was relieved, 
Harry and I had a talk. This boy had already made one 
voyage on the 'Windermere,' and, though he despised green- 
horns, among whom he classed me, he was pleased to be good- 
natured with me, probably because I showed such deference 
to his spirit and experience. He graciously promised to 
coach me, or, rather, put me 'up to the ropes,' that I might 
avoid a few of the punishments mates are so quick to bestow 
on dull ship-boys. 

When I told him that I had been engaged as cabin-boy, he 
was uncommonly amused, and said that the skipper was at 
his 'old game.' 'On the last voyage we had two boys who 
had been induced to join in the same way, but, as soon as 
we were out to sea, Nelson got a hint from the "cappen"and 
fell on them like a thousand of bricks, and chased them forrard 
pretty quick, I tell ye. They were bully-ragged all the way 
to New Orleans, and at the pier they sloped, leaving their 



AT SEA 71 

sea-duds to me. We made a good thing out of the young 
duffers. The skipper must have cleared twenty-five dollars 
in wages from the pair of them, the mates had their fun out 
of them, and I had their toggery. 

'What you 've got to do is to mind your eye. Look out for 
Nelson, and be lively. That man ain't no softy, I tell ye. If 
he comes down on you, you '11 get it hot, and no mistake. 
When he sings out, jump, as though you were bitten, and 
answer, "Aye, aye, sir." Never forget to "sir" him. Whether 
it 's scrubbing, or brass-cleaning, or hauling, stick to your job 
like — and "sharp" 's the word every time. The second 
mate is bad enough, but Waters, the chief mate, is the very 
devil. With him the blow goes before the word, while Nelson 
roars like a true sea-dog before he strikes. Good Lord, I've 
seen some sights aboard this packet, I have.' 

* But how did the captain make twenty-five dollars by the 
boys on the last voyage?' 

* How ? Well you are a goose ! Why, they left their wages, 
over two months due, in his hands, when they ran away from 
the ship for fear of worse treatment going home. Aye, that 's 
the ticket, and the size of it, my little matey. Haze and 
bully the young lubbers well at sea, and they scoot ashore the 
first chance they get.' 

'Were the mates not hard on you?' 

'Oh, Waters took me into his watch, and showed a liking 
for me, for, you see, I was not quite a greeny. My father saw 
me properly shipped, and I signed articles. They did n't, but 
came aboard with the cappen's permission, and so did you. 
The skipper has to account for me when he gets to port ; but 
you, you may be blown overboard, and no one would be the 
wiser. I am now as good as an ordinary seaman, though too 
young for the forecastle. I can furl royals as spry as any 
bucco sailor on board, and know every rope on the ship, 
while you don't know stem from stern.' 

These glib nautical phrases, most of which were but vaguely 
understood by me, his assurance, his daring, his want of 
feeling, made me admire and wonder at him. He was a typical 
sea-boy, with a glitter in his eyes and bloom in his smooth 
cheeks that told of superabundant health and hardiesse. But 
for one thing, a prince might have been proud of him as a son. 



72 HENRY M. STANLEY 

Satan, I thought, had already adopted him. His absolute 
ignorance of religion, his awful coarseness of speech, removed 
him miles away from me, as though he were a brave young 
savage of another nation and language, and utterly incom- 
prehensible to me. He was not to be imitated in any way, 
and yet he obtained my admiration, because he had been to 
America, had manfully endured the tortures of sea-life, and 
bore himself indomitably. 

Long Hart, the cook, was another kind of hero to me. He 
stood over six feet high in his galley felts, and his saffron 
complexion and creased neck spoke of foreign suns, maritime 
romance, and many voyages. The gold earrings he wore I 
suspected belonged to his dead wives. His nethers consisted 
of black doe-skin, his body was cased in a dark blue jersey, and 
a blue Phrygian cap covered his head. He disdained the use of 
sailors' colloquialisms, and spoke like a school-master in very 
grand words. My rustic innocence appeared to have an at- 
traction for him ; on the second evening after my recovery, he 
offered the freedom of his galley to me, and, when I brought 
the apprentice kids, he was generous in his helpings of soft- 
tack, scouse, and duff. During the dog-watches he spun long 
yarns about his experiences in deep-sea ships, and voyages to 
Callao, California, West Coast of Africa, and elsewhere, many 
of which were horrible on account of the cruelty practised on 
sailors. I heard of poor sailors hoisted up to the yard-arm, 
and ducked by the run in the sea until they were nearly 
drowned ; of men being keel-hauled, tied stark-naked to the 
windlass, and subjected to the most horrible indignities, put 
over the ship's side to scrub the ship's coppers in the roasting 
hot sun, and much else which made me thankful that the cap- 
tains of the day were not so cruel as those twenty years back. 
His condescension to a young lubber like myself, and his 
generosity, won from me such deference and civility that he 
assumed a kind of protectorship over me, and assisted in the 
enlightenment of my understanding about many things. 

The crew consisted mainly of Anglo-Irish, Dutchmen, one 
or two English, and as many Yankees. They were undisci- 
plined spirits, who found the wild sea-life congenial to their 
half-savage natures, and had formed the odd notion that to 
be sailors was to be of nobler stuff than shoremen, and ac- 



AT SEA 73 

cordingly swaggered magnificently whenever they could do 
it safely. For some reason they had conceived their nobility 
to lie in the fact that they had voluntarily adopted a more 
perilous profession than any practised by landsmen. They 
were adored by the girls in port, and enjoyed the privilege of 
gloriously swearing whenever they chose, and the pleasure of 
this conceit gave them happiness. Shoremen seldom swore, ex- 
cept the dockmen, who aped sailors' manners and gait. They 
went to church, feared the constables, seldom got drunk or 
went on a spree, sported gloves, and seemed afraid of work. 

When they catch these shore-lubbers at sea, the sailors' 
contempt for them is very manifest. They are delighted when 
they are sea-sick, oaths and blows are freely dealt to them, 
they take pleasure in provoking their aversion to slush and 
tar, and secretly enjoy their cruel treatment by the mates. As 
they made me feel my inferiority to Harry, I have since wit- 
nessed many another treated in the same way. Poor brutes ! 
considering the slave life they lead, it would be a pity to de- 
prive them of this miserable consolation. 

The discipline of the 'Windermere' was well begun by the 
time I regained health. It was the pride of the officers that, 
though the 'Windermere' was not a 'Black-Ball' packet, she 
was big and smart enough to be one, and they were resolved 
that the customs of the Black- Bailer should prevail on board, 
and that the discipline should be of the same quality. Whether 
it came up to the regulation standard I do not know, but just 
as Francis flogged, beat, and pummelled the infants under 
his charge, so the ruffian mates stormed, swore, and struck 
or booted the full-grown wretches on board the ' Windermere.' 
The captain was too high and mighty to interfere, or he may 
have issued his orders to that purpose, and was satisfied with 
the zealous service of his mates : at any rate, I scarcely heard 
his voice except during gales of wind, and then it was stern 
and strident. 

Strange to say, the majority of the sailors preferred the 
American ships, with all their brutality, to the English, with 
their daily doses of lime-juice. Harry, Long Hart, and the 
forecastle arguments which we had perforce to hear, as our 
den adjoined that of the sailors, suJfficiently informed me of 
the fact that the soft-tack, plum-duff, good mess-beef of the 



74 HENRY M. STANLEY 

Yankees, were preferred to the weevilly-biscuit, horse-beef, 
and gill of lime-juice of the British. 'Give me,' said a fore- 
castle orator, 'a Yankee ship, and not a lousy lime-juicer. 
Even on the worst Yankee ship afloat no bucco sailor need 
fear the mates. If a man knows his duty and won't shirk, he 
is safe against the devil himself, I say. Watch Bully Waters 
himself. He never drops on a real shell-back, but on some 
infernal land-lubber who has shipped as an A. B., when he is 
not fit to carry guts to a bear. It is the loutish Dutchmen and 
Swedes who have spoiled these packet-ships. You can'texpect 
mates, in a squall of wind that may whip the masts off, to 
stand still until their orders enter the stupid head of a Dutch- 
man who does n't know a word of English. Well, what must 
they do? The ship is their first duty, and they fly at the 
Dutchman, and if the Dutchman don't understand that he 
must skip — he must stand and be skinned. There's my 
sentiments.' 

I heard such defence scores of times, which proves that the 
worst side has something to say for itself. 

It may have been the shell-back's boast or Harry's criticism 
which induced me, when on deck, to observe more closely that 
professional superiority which made the 'bucco sailor' so 
fearless. It seemed to me that though the 'old hands' knew 
their work well, they took precious care to do as little as pos- 
sible ; and, had anyone asked me, after I had got safely ashore, 
what I thought of them, I should have said that they did 
more 'dusting round' than real work. 

It is true the 'old salts' were loudest in their responses to 
the mate's commands, that they led the bowline song and the 
halliard chant, were cheerier with their 'Aye, ayes,' 'Belays,' 
'Vast hauling,' and chorus; that they strove whose hands 
should be uppermost at the haUiards and nearest to the 
tackles ; but all this did not impress me so much as they might 
think it did. When the officers thundered out, 'All hands 
shorten sail,' 'Furl top-gallant sails,* or * Reef topsail,' the 
shell-backs appeared to delay under various shifty pretexts 
to climb up the rigging, in order that being last they might 
occupy the safe position at the bunt of the sails; and when 
it was only a four-man job, the way in which they noisily 
passed the word along, without offering to move, was most 



AT SEA 75 

artful. At serving, splicing, and steering, the skill of the old 
hands counted greatly, no doubt ; but in work aloft they were 
nowhere, cornpared to those Dutchmen and Norwegians 
they so much derided. They were, in fact, strategists in the 
arts of shirking. 

Sometimes the 'sojering,' as it was called, was a little too 
conspicuous ; and then Bully Waters, with awful energy and 
frantic malice, drew blood from 'old salt' and 'joskin' indis- 
criminately, with iron belaying-pins, and kicked, and pounded, 
until I sickened at the sound of the deadly thuds, and the 
faces streaming with blood ; but I was compelled to admit that 
for some days after there would be a more spontaneous brisk- 
ness to obey orders, and old and young regarded the fiery 
mate from the corners of their eyes. 

Five days from Liverpool there suddenly appeared on deck 
three stowaways, — two Irish boys of about fourteen and 
fifteen, and an Irishman, — ragged, haggard, and spiritless 
from hunger, sickness, and confinement. Of course they had 
to undergo the ordeal of inspection by the stern caj)tain, who 
contemptuously dismissed them as though they were too vile 
to look at; but Nelson chivied the three unfortunates from 
the poop to the bow to 'warm their cockles,' as he phrased it. 
The cries of the youngest boy were shrillest and loudest, but, 
when he afterwards emerged to beg food, we guessed by his 
roguish smile that he had been least hurt. Harry expressed 
his opinion that he was a 'Liverpool rat,' who would cer- 
tainly end his days in the State's prison. 

Curiously enough, the presence of these two young stowa- 
ways acted as a buffer between me and a considerable amount 
of inglorious mauling, which Nelson, for practice' sake, would 
have inflicted on my 'Royal Bengal, British person,' as, with 
playful devilry, he admitted. But the rogues did not appear 
to be very sensitive about the indignity to which they were 
subjected. The younger Paddy disturbed the ship with shrill 
screams if Nelson but raised his hand, and thus his rat's wit 
saved him often. O'Flynn, the eldest boy, would run and 
dodge his tormentor, until Nelson, who seemed to love the 
fun of licking them, through cunning caught them, and then 
the cries of the innocents would be heart-rending. 

Before many days had passed, I had discovered that Nelson 



76 HENRY M. STANLEY 

had also his arts. Though I had never been in a theatre, and 
could not understand, at first, why one man should assume 
so many poses, I should have been blind not to perceive that 
the real self of Nelson was kept in reserve, and that he amused 
himself by behaving differently to each on board. He had 
one way with the captain, another with his colleague, and 
various were the styles he assumed before the sailors. From 
profound deference to Captain Hardinge, and respectful 
fellowship with Waters, he gradually rose in his own esti- 
mation as he addressed himself to the lower grades, until to 
me he was arrogance personified, and to the stowaways a 
'born-hellian.' With Harry he indulged in broad irony, to the 
more stodgy of the crew he was a champion prize-fighter, to 
others he spoke with a dangerous smoothness, with lips 
retracted; but behind every character he adopted stood the 
real Nelson, a ferocious and short-tempered brute, ready to 
blaze up into bloody violence. 

Until we were abreast of Biscay Bay we experienced no 
bad weather, but rolled along comfortably under moderate 
breezes, with a spiteful gust or two. I was gradually becom- 
ing seasoned, and indifferent to the swing-swang of the sea. 
As Nelson said, with a condescending but evil smile, I was 
'fresh as a daisy.' The gales and tempests about which 
Harry and Long Hart loved to talk were so long a-coming 
that I doubted whether the sea was really so very dreadful, 
or that the canvas towers would ever need to be taken in. 
From sunrise down to the decline of day our mast-heads 
drew apparently the same regular lines and curves against a 
clear sky. But now the blue disappeared under depths of 
clouds which intensified into blackness very rapidly, and the 
whistling whispers in the shrouds changed their note. The 
sea abandoned its mechanical heave, and languid upshoot of 
scattered crests. Whether the sky had signalled the change 
and the sea obeyed, or whether the elements were acting 
simultaneously, I knew not, but, just as the cloudiness had 
deepened, a shadow passed over the ocean, until it was almost 
black in colour; and then, to windward, I could see battalion 
after battalion of white-caps rushing gaily, exultingly, towards 
us. The watches were mustered : captain and mates appeared 
with oil-skins ready, and when the wind began to sing in 



AT SEA 77 

louder notes, and the great packet surged over on her side, 
and the water shot through the scuppers, the captain shook 
his head disparagingly and cried, 'Shorten sail, Mr. Waters ; in 
with royals and top-gallant sails, down with the flying jib,' 
etc., etc. 

This was the period when I thought Mr. Waters was at his 
grandest. His trumpet-like voice was heard in 'larum tones, 
as though the existence of a fleet was at stake; and every 
'man- jack' seemed electrified and flew to his duty with all 
ardour. Nor was Nelson behind Waters in energy. The 
warning sounds of the wind had announced that intensity of 
action was expected from every soul. The waves leaped over 
the high foreboard, and the ship was pressed over until the 
deck was as steep as the roof of a church, and a foaming 
cataract impended over us. Then it was the mates bawled 
out aloud, and sailors clambered up the shrouds in a frenzy 
of briskness, and the deck-hands bawled and sang after a 
fashion I had not heard before, while blocks tam-tammed 
recklessly, great sail-sheets danced wildly in the air, and 
every now and then a thunder sound, from bursting canvas, 
added to the general excitement. Though somewhat be- 
wildered by the windy blasts, the uproar of rushing waters, 
and the fury of captain and crew, I could not help being 
fascinated by the scene, and admiring the passionate energy 
of officers and crew. A gale at sea is as stimulating as a battle. 

When the area of sail had been reduced to the limit of 
safety, we had a clearer view fore and aft, and I had more 
leisure to listen to the wind-music in the shrouds, to observe 
the graver aspect of the sea, and to be influenced by un- 
speakable impressions. What a power this invisible element, 
which had stirred the sea to madness, was ! If I raised my 
head above the bulwarks, it filled my eyes with tears, tore at 
my hair, drove up my nostrils with such force as to make me 
gasp. It flew up our trousers, and under our oilskin jackets, 
and inflated us until we resembled the plumpest effigies con- 
ceivable. 

In the height of the turmoil, while trying to control my 
ideas, I was startled by the penetrating voice of Waters 
singing in my ear. 

'Now, my young pudding-faced joker, why are you stand- 



78 HENRY M. STANLEY 

ing here with your mouth wide open? Get a swab, you 
monkey, and swab up this poop, or I'll jump down your — 
throat. Look alive now, you sweet-scented son of a sea-cook ! ' 

That first voyage of mine was certainly a remarkable one, 
were it only for the new-fangled vocabulary I was constantly 
hearing. Every sentence contained some new word or phrase, 
coined extempore, and accentuated by a rope's end, or un- 
gentle back-hander, with gutter adjectives and explosive 
epithets. Every order appeared to require the force of a 
gathered passion, as though obedience was impossible with- 
out it. 

From this date began, I think, the noting of a strange coinci- 
dence, which has since been so common with me that I accept 
it as a rule. When I pray for a man, it happens that at that 
moment he is cursing me ; when I praise, I am slandered ; if I 
commend, I am reviled ; if I feel affectionate or sympathetic 
towards one, it is my fate to be detested or scorned by him. I 
first noticed this curious coincidence on board the 'Winder- 
mere.' I bore no grudge, and thought no evil of any person, 
but prayed for all, morning and evening, extolled the cour- 
age, strength, and energy of my ship-mates, likened them to 
sea-lions, and felt it an honour to be in the company of such 
brave men ; but, invariably, they damned my eyes, my face, my 
heart, my soul, my person, my nationality ; I was damned aft, 
and damned forward. I was wholly obnoxious to everyone 
aboard, and the only service they asked of God towards me 
was that He should damn me to all eternity. It was a new idea 
that came across my mind. My memory clung to it as a nov- 
elty, and at every instance of the coincidence I became more 
and more confirmed that it was a rule, as applied to me ; but, 
until it was established, I continued to bless those who perse- 
cuted me with their hideous curses. I am glad to think that 
I was sustained by a belief that I was doing right ; for, without 
it, I should have given scope to a ferocious and blasphemous 
resentment. It cheered me with a hope that, by and by, their 
curses would be blessings; and, in the meantime, my mind 
was becoming as impervious to such troubles as a swan's back 
to a shower of rain. 

Harry, on the contrary, made a distinction. He allowed 
no one to curse him, except the officers. When a sailor ventured 



AT SEA 79 

to swear at him, he returned the swearing with interest, and 
clenched his fist ready for the violent sequel. He had long 
ago overcome the young boy's squeamishness at an oath. If 
anything, he was rather prone to take the boy's advantage 
over a man, and dare him to prove himself a coward by strik- 
ing one younger and weaker. It is a cunning method of fence, 
which I have since found is frequently practised by those who, 
cannot, without loss of manliness, resort to screaming. When 
I confided to him that the crew of the * Windermere ' were a 
very wicked set, he said the 'Windermere' was Heaven com- 
pared to a Black-Bali packet-ship. I believe that he would 
have liked to see more belaying-pins and marline-spikes 
thrown at the men by the mates, more knuckle-dusting, and 
sling-shot violence. According to him, brutal sailors should 
be commanded by brutal mates. 'Lime- juicers' were too soft 
altogether for his kidney. 

From the day we reached the region of the Trades, we 
enjoyed blue skies and dry decks, speeding along under square 
yards, with studding-sails below and aloft. Our work, how- 
ever, was not a whit easier. The mates hated to see idleness, 
and found endless jobs of scrubbing paint- work, brass-clean- 
ing, painting, oiling, slushing, and tarring, not to mention 
sennet-making, and serving shrouds and stays. Sundays, 
however, — weather permitting, — were restful. The sailors 
occupied themselves with overhauling their kits, shaving, 
hair-cutting, and clothes-mending. In the afternoon, after 
gorging themselves on duff, they were more given to smoke, 
and to spinning such sanguinary yarns of sea-life that I won- 
dered they could find pleasure in following such a gory pro- 
fession. When sea and sky were equally sympathetic, and 
Waters and Nelson gave a rest to their vocal machines, there 
might have been worse places than the deck of the 'Winder- 
mere' on a Sunday ; and, to us boys, the Sunday feed of plum- 
duff, with its 'Nantucket raisins,' soft-tack, and molasses, 
or gingerbread, contributed to render it delightful. 

We were on the verge of the Gulf of Mexico, when one 
night, just after eight bells were struck, and the watch was 
turning out, Waters, who was ever on the alert for a drop on 
someone, hurled an iron belaying-pin at a group of sailors on 
the main deck, and felled a Norwegian senseless. Then, as 



8o HENRY M. STANLEY 

though excited at the effect, he bounded over the poop-railing 
to the main deck, amongst the half-sleepy men, and struck 
right and left with a hand-spike, and created such a panic 
that old salts and joskins began to leap over each other in their 
wild hurry to escape from the demon. Four men lay on the 
deck still as death for a while, but, fortunately, they recovered 
in a short time, though the Norwegian was disabled for a 
week. 

The next day. Nelson tried to distinguish himself. While 
washing decks, he caught the youngest Paddy fairly, and 
availed himself of the opportunity to avenge former failures 
so effectually that the boy had not a joke left in him. His 
fellow-stowaway was next made to regret ever having chosen 
the 'Windermere' to escape from the miseries inseparable 
from Liverpool poverty. Before many minutes Nelson was 
dancing about me, and wounding me in many a vulnerable 
point; and then, aspiring for bigger game, he affected to feel 
outraged at the conduct of the man at the wheel, and pro- 
ceeded to relieve himself by clouting and kicking the poor 
fellow, until the bright day must have appeared like a starry 
sky to him. 

Labouring under the notion that Liverpool sailors needed 
the most ferocious discipline, our two mates seldom omitted 
a chance to prove to them that they were resolved to follow 
every detail of the code, and to promote their efficiency ; but, 
when about four days from the mouth of the Mississippi, they 
suddenly abstained from physical violence, and except by 
intermittent fits of mild swearing, and mordant sarcasm, they 
discontinued all efforts at the improvement of the men. The 
day before we arrived at the Balize, the mates astonished 
me by their extravagant praise of those they had so cruelly 
mauled and beaten. They called them 'Jolly Tars,* 'Yankee 
Boys' (a very high compliment), 'Ocean heroes,' etc., etc. 
Bully Waters exhibited his brilliantly white teeth in broad 
smiles, and Nelson gushed, and was jovially ebullient. I 
heard one sailor remark upon this sudden change of demean- 
our in them, that the mates knew when to "bout face' and 
sing a new tune ; and that old hands could tell how near they 
were to the levee by the way Yankee mates behaved, and 
that there was no place so unwholesome for bullies as the 



i 



AT SEA 8i 

New Orleans levee. Another sailor was of the opinion that the 
mates were more afraid of being hauled up before the court ; 
he had often seen their like, — ' hellians at sea, and sweet as 
molasses near port.' 

On the fifty-second day from Liverpool, the 'Windermere' 
anchored off one of the four mouths of the Mississippi River, 
in twenty-seven feet of water. The shore is called the Balize. 
Early next morning a small tug took our ship, and another 
of similar size, in tow, and proceeded up the river with us. 
We were kept very busy preparing the vessel for port, but 
I had abundant opportunities to note the strange shores, 
and the appearance of the greatest of American rivers. After 
several hours' steaming, we passed 'English turn,' which 
Harry described as the place where the English were 'licked' 
by the Americans on the 8th of January, 1815 — a story that 
was then incredible to me. After an ascent of about one hun- 
dred miles up the river, we came in view of the chief port of 
the Mississippi Valley, and, in due time, our vessel became 
one of three lying at a pier-head, pointing up among a seem- 
ingly countless number of ships and river-steamers, ranged 
below and above our berth. The boarding-house touts poured 
aboard and took possession of the sailors ; and, before many 
minutes, Harry and I alone remained of the crew that had 
brought the big 'Windermere' across the sea to New Orleans. 

Though about thirty-five years have elapsed since I first 
stood upon the levee of the Crescent City, scarcely one of all 
my tumultuous sensations of pleasure, wonder, and curiosity, 
has been forgotten by me. The levee sloped down with a noble 
breadth to the river, and stretched for miles up and down in 
front of the city, and was crowded with the cargoes of the 
hundreds of vessels which lay broadside to it. In some places 
the freights lay in mountainous heaps, but the barrels, and 
hogsheads, and cotton bales, covered immense spaces, though 
arranged in precise order; and, with the multitudes of men, 
— white, red, black, yellow, — horses, mules, and drays and 
wagons, the effect of such a scene, with its fierce activity and 
new atmosphere, upon a raw boy from St. Asaph, may be 
better imagined than described. 

During my fifty-two days of ship-life there had filtered 



82 HENRY M. STANLEY 

into my mind curious ideas respecting the new land of America 
and the character of the people. In a large measure they were 
more complimentary than otherwise; but the levee of New 
Orleans carried with its name a reputation for slung-shots, 
doctored liquor, Shanghai-ing, and wharf-ratting, which made 
it a dubious place for me. When Harry directed my attention 
to the numerous liquor saloons fronting the river-side, all 
the scandalous stories I had heard of knifing, fighting, and 
manslaughter, recurred at once to my mind, and made me 
very shy of these haunts of villainy and devilry. As he could 
not forego the pleasure of introducing me to a city which he 
had constantly praised, he insisted that I should accompany 
him for a walk that first night up Tchapitoulas Street, and to 
some 'diggins' where he had acquaintances. I accepted his 
invitation without any misgiving, or any other thought than 
of satisfying a natural curiosity. 

I think it is one of the most vivid recollections I possess. 
The details of my first impressions, and an analysis of my 
thoughts, would fill many pages. Of the thousands of British 
boys who have landed in this city, I fancy none was so utterly 
unsophisticated as myself — for reasons which have already 
been related. 

Directly the sun was set we were relieved from duty, and 
were allowed liberty to go ashore. We flew over the planking 
laid across the ships, light as young fawns ; and, when I felt 
the shore under my feet, I had to relieve myself by an ecstatic 
whirl or two about Harry, crying out, 'At last ! At last ! New 
Orleans ! It is too good to be true !' I was nearly overwhelmed 
with blissful feeling that rises from emancipation. I was free ! 
— and I was happy, yes, actually happy, for I was free — at 
last the boy was free ! 

We raced across the levee, for joy begets activity, and activ- 
ity is infectious. What was a vivid joy to me, was the delight 
of gratified pride to Harry. 'I told you,' he said, beaming, 
'what New Orleans was. Is it not grand?' But 'grand' did 
not convey its character, as it appeared to my fresh young 
eyes. Some other word was wanted to express the whole of 
what I felt. The soft, balmy air, with its strange scents of 
fermenting molasses, semi-baked sugar, green coffee, pitch, 
Stockholm tar, brine of mess-beef, rum, and whiskey drip- 



AT SEA 83 

pings, contributed a great deal towards imparting the charm 
of romance to everything I saw. The people I passed ap- 
peared to me to be nobler than any I had seen. They had a 
swing of the body wholly un-English, and their facial expres- 
sions differed from those I had been accustomed to. I strove 
hard to give a name to what was so unusual. Now, of course, 
I know that it was the sense of equality and independence that 
made each face so different from what I had seen in Liverpool. 
These people knew no master, and had no more awe of their 
employers than they had of their fellow-employees. 

We reached the top of Tchapitoulas Street, the main com- 
mercial artery of the city. The people were thronging home 
from the business quarters, to the more residential part. They 
passed by in many hundreds, with their lunch-buckets, and, 
though soiled by their labours, they were not wearied or de- 
pressed. In the vicinity of Poydras Street, we halted before 
a boarding-house, where Harry was welcomed with the 
warmth which is the due of the returned voyager. He ordered 
dinner, and, with appetites sharpened by youth and ocean 
airs, we sat down to a spread of viands which were as excel- 
lent as they were novel. Okra soup, grits, sweet potatoes, 
brin jails, corn pones, mush-pudding, and 'fixings' — every 
article but the bread was strange and toothsome. Harry 
appropriated my praise of the meal to himself, paid for it with 
the air of one whose purse was deep beyond soundings, and 
then invested a silver piece in cigars; for American boys 
always smoked cigars, and, when in New Orleans, English 
boys loved to imitate them. 

Now, when I stepped on the levee, frisky as a lamb, I was 
about as good as a religious observance of the Commandments 
can make one. To me those were the principal boundary- 
stones that separated the region of right from that of wrong. 
Between the greater landmarks, there were many well-known 
minor indexes; but there were some which were almost un- 
discoverable to one so young and untravelled as I was. Only 
the angelically-immaculate could tread along the limits of 
right and wrong without a misstep. 

After dinner we sauntered through a few streets, in a state 
of sweet content, and, by and by, entered another house, the 
proprietress of which was extremely gracious. Harry whis- 



84 HENRY M. STANLEY 

pered something to her, and we were shown to a room called 
a parlour. Presently, there bounced in four gay young ladies, 
in such scant clothing that I was speechless with amazement. 
My ignorance of their profession was profound, and I was 
willing enough to be enlightened ; but, when they proceeded 
to take liberties with my person, they seemed to me to be 
so appallingly wicked that I shook them off and fled out of 
the house. Harry followed me, and, with all the arts he could 
use, tried to induce me to return ; but I would as soon have 
jumped into the gruel-coloured Mississippi as have looked 
into the eyes of those giggling wantons again. My disgust 
was so great that I never, in after years, could overcome my 
repugnance to females of that character. 

Then Harry persuaded me to enter a bar-room, and called 
for liquor, but here, again, I was obstinate. ' Drink yourself, 
if you like,' said I, 'but I belong to the Band of Hope and 
have signed the pledge, so I must not.' 

'Well smoke then, do something like other fellows,' he said, 
offering me my choice. 

As I had never heard that smoking was a moral offence, and 
had a desire to appear manly, I weakly yielded, and, putting 
a great cigar between my lips, puffed proudly and with vigour. 
But alas! my punishment was swift. My head seemed to 
swim, and my limbs were seized with a trembling ; and, while 
vainly trying to control myself, a surge of nausea quite over- 
powered me, and I tried to steal back to the ship, as abjectly 
contrite as ever repentant wretch could well be. Thus ended 
my first night at New Orleans. 

Harry's story of the two English boys, who had been com- 
pelled to abscond from the 'Windermere' the voyage before, 
recurred to me more than once after Nelson's greeting next 
morning. ' Hello ! you here still ! I thought you had vamoosed 
like the Irish stowaways. Not enough physic, eh? Well, 
sonny, we must see what we can do for you/ 

I was put to cleaning brass-work — a mechanical occupa- 
tion that breeds thought. If, attracted by a lively levee 
scene, I lifted my eyes, one or other of the mates bawled out, 
' Now, you scalawag, or, you little sweep, what in — are you 
doing? Get on with that work, you putty-faced son of a — !* 
and so on ! Ever some roaring blasphemy, some hideous 



AT SEA 85 

epithet, with a kick or a clout, until, on the fifth day, convic- 
tion stole upon every sense that it was to a set purpose ; and 
my small remnant of self-respect kindled into a revolt. .1 
understand now that it was the pitiful sum of money due to 
me they wished to save for the ship-owners or captain, that 
prevented them from saying right out, 'You may go, and be 
— to you.' Such a dismissal entailed a settlement. Just as 
Moses Owen lacked the moral courage to despatch me from 
his presence, these men were at the same game of nagging; 
and it succeeded in inspiring indifference as to what would 
become of me. I could say, at last, 'Better to rot on this 
foreign strand than endure this slave's life longer.' 

That evening I declined to go ashore with Harry, and sat 
pondering in the loneliness of my cabin, and prayer, some- 
what fallen into disuse of late, was remembered ; and I rose 
from my knees primed for the venture. Habit of association, 
as usual with me, had knit some bonds of attachment between 
me and the ship. She connected me with England ; by her I 
came, and by her I could return. Now that was impossible ; 
I must follow the stowaways, and leave the floating hell for 
ever. 

I lit the swinging pewter lamp, emptied my sea-bag on the 
floor, and out of its contents picked my best shore clothes, 
and the bishop's Bible. I dressed myself with care, and, blow- 
ing out the lamp, lay down. By and by, Harry reeled in, half- 
stupefied with his excesses, rolled into his bunk above me; 
and, when he was unconscious, I rose and glided out. Five 
minutes later, I was hurrying rapidly along the river-side of 
the levee ; and, when about half a mile from the ship, I plunged 
into the shadows caused by a pile of cotton bales, and lay 
down to await day-break. 



s 



CHAPTER IV 

AT WORK 

OON after sunrise I came out of my nest, and after 
dusting myself, strode towards Tchapitoulas Street. 

* The world was all before me where to choose, 
And Providence my guide.' 

The absolutely penniless has a choice of two things, work 
or starve. No boy of my age and vitality could deliberately 
choose starvation. The other alternative remained to me, and 
for work, work of any kind, I was most ready ; with a strong 
belief that it was the only way to achieve that beautiful 
independence which sat so well on those who had succeeded. 
I was quite of the opinion of my Aunt Mary, that 'rolling 
stones gathered no moss,' and I wanted permanent work, 
wherein I could approve myself steady, and zealously indus- 
trious. Hitherto, I had been most unfortunate in the search. 
Respectful civility, prompt obedience, and painstaking zeal, 
had been at a discount ; but, such is the buoyancy of healthy 
youth, I still retained my faith that decent employment was 
within reach of the diligent, and it was this that I was now 
bent upon. 

Hastening across the levee, I entered the great commercial 
street of the city, at a point not far from St. Thomas Street, 
and, after a little inward debate, continued down Tchapitou- 
las Street, along the sidewalk, with all my senses wide-awake. 
I read every sign reflectively. The store-owners' names were 
mostly foreign, and suggestive of Teutonic and Hibernian 
origin ; but the larger buildings were of undeniable Anglo- 
Saxon. At the outset, lager-beer saloons were frequent; then 
followed more shanties, with rusty tin roofs; but, beyond 
these, the stores were more massive and uniform, and over 
the doors were the inscriptions, 'Produce and Commission 
Merchants,' etc. 

As I proceeded, looking keenly about for the favourable 



AT WORK 87 

chance, the doors were flung open one by one, and I obtained 
a view of the interior. Negroes commenced to sweep the long 
alleys between the goods piles, and to propel the dust and 
rubbish of the previous day's traffic towards the open gutter. 
Then flour, whiskey, and rum barrels, marked and branded, 
were rolled out, and arranged near the kerbstone. Hogsheads 
and tierces were set on end, cases were built up, sacks were 
laid in orderly layers, awaiting removal by the drays, which, 
at a later hour, would convey them to the river-steamers. 

Soon after seven, I had arrived near the end of the long 
street; and I could see the colossal Custom-House, and its 
immense scafl^olding. So far, I, had not addressed myself to 
a single soul, and I was thinking I should have to search in 
another street; when, just at this time, I saw a gentleman of 
middle age seated in front of No. 3 store, reading a morning 
newspaper. From his sober dark alpaca suit and tall hat, I 
took him to be the proprietor of the building, over the door 
of which was the sign, 'Speake and McCreary, Wholesale and 
Commission Merchants.' He sat tilted back against what 
appeared to be the solid granite frame of the door, with a 
leisured ease which was a contrast to the activity I had pre- 
viously noticed. After a second look at the respectable figure 
and genial face, I ventured to ask, — 

'Do you want a boy, sir?' 

*Eh?' he demanded with a start; 'what did you say?' 

*I want some work, sir; I asked if you wanted a boy.* 

'A boy,' he replied slowly, and fixedly regarding me. 'No, 
I do not think I want one. What should I want a boy for? 
Where do you hail from? You are not an American.' 

'I came from Liverpool, sir, less than a week ago, by a 
packet-ship. I shipped as cabin-boy ; but, when we got to sea, 
I was sent forward, and, until last night, I was abused the 
whole voyage. At last, I became convinced that I was not 
wanted, and left. As you are the first gentleman I have seen, 
I thought I would apply to you for work, or ask you for advice 
as to how to get it.' 

'So,' he ejaculated, tilting his chair back again. 'You are 
friendless in a strange land, eh, and want work to begin mak- 
ing your fortune, eh ? Well, what work can you do? Can you 
read? What book is that in your pocket? ' 



88 HENRY M. STANLEY 

'It is my Bible, a present from our Bishop. Oh, yes, sir, I 
can read,' I replied proudly. 

He held out his hand and said, 'Let me see your Bible.' 

He opened it at the fly-leaves, and smiled, as he read the 
inscription, ' Presented to John Rowlands by the Right Revd. 
Thomas Vowler Short, D. D., Lord Bishop of St. Asaph, for 
diligent application to his studies, and general good conduct. 
January 5th, 1855." 

Returning it to me, he pointed to an article in his newspaper, 
and said, 'Read that.' It was something about a legislative 
assembly, which I delivered, as he said, ' very correctly, but 
with an un-American accent.' 

'Can you write well?' he next asked. 

'Yes, sir, a good round-hand, as I have been told.' 

' Then let me see you mark that coffee-sack, with the same 
address you see on the one near it. There is the marking-pot 
and brush." >>. 

In a few seconds, I had traced ' <^MEMPHIS, TENN.,' 
and looked up. 

'Neatly done,' he said; 'now proceed and mark the other 
sacks in the same way.' 

There were about twenty of them, and in a few minutes 
they were all addressed. 

' Excellent !' he cried ; ' even better than I could do it myself. 
There is no chance of my coffee getting lost this time ! Well, 
I must see what can be done for you. Dan,' he cried to a 
darkie indoors, 'when is Mr. Speake likely to be in?* 

"Bout nine, sah, mebbe a leetle aftah.' 

'Oh, well,' said he, looking at his watch, 'we have ample 
time before us. As I don't suppose you have breakfasted yet, 
you had better come along with me. Take the paper, Dan.' 

We turned down the next street, and as we went along he 
said first impressions were very important in this world, and 
he feared that if his friend James Speake had seen cotton 
fluff and dust on my jacket, and my uncombed hair, he might 
not be tempted to look at me twice, or care to trust me among 
his groceries; but, after a breakfast, a hair-cut, and a good 
clean-up, he thought I would have a better chance of being 
employed. 

I was taken to a restaurant, where I was provided with 



AT WORK 89 

superb coffee, sugared waffles, and doughnuts, after which we 
adjourned to a basement distinguished by a pole with red, 
white, and blue paint. 

Everyone who has been operated upon by an American 
barber will understand the delight I felt, as I lay submissive 
in the luxurious chair, to be beautified by a demi-semi-gentle- 
man, with ambrosial curls! The mere fact that such as he 
condescended to practise his art upon one who but yesterday 
was only thought worthy of a kick, gave an increased value 
to my person, and provoked my conceit. When my dark hair 
had been artistically shortened, my head and neck shampooed, 
and my face glowed with the scouring, I looked into the mirror 
and my vanity was prodigious. A negro boy completed my 
toilet with an efficient brushing and a boot-polish, and my 
friend was pleased to say that I looked first-rate. 

By the time we returned to Speake and McCreary's store, 
Mr. James Speake had put in an appearance. After a cordial 
greeting, my benefactor led Mr. Speake away by the arm and 
held a few minutes' earnest conversation with him. Presently 
I was beckoned to advance, and Mr. Speake said with a smile 
to me, — 

'Well, young man, this gentleman tells me you want a 
place. Is that so?' 

'Yes, sir.' 

'That is all right, I am willing to give you a week's trial 
at five dollars, and if we then find we suit each other, the place 
will be permanent. Are you agreeable?' 

There could be no doubt of that fact, and Mr. Speake 
turned round to two young gentlemen, one of whom he called 
Mr. Kennicy, and the other Mr. Richardson, and acquainted 
them with my engagement as a help to Mr. Richardson in the 
shipping business. The generosity of my unknown friend had 
been so great that, before addressing myself to any employ- 
ment, I endeavoured to express my gratitude ; but my strong 
emotions were not favourable to spontaneous fluency. The 
gentleman seemed to divine what I wished to say, and said, — 

' There, that will do. I know what is in your heart. Shake 
hands. I am going up-river with my consignments, but I 
shall return shortly and hope to hear the best accounts of you.* 

For the first half -hour my heart was too full, and my eyes 



90 HENRY M. STANLEY 

too much blurred, to be particularly bright. The gentleman's 
benevolence had been immense, and as yet I knew not even 
his name, his business, or what connection he had with the 
store of Speake and McCreary. I was in the midst of strangers, 
and, so far, my experience of them had not been of that qual- 
ity to inspire confidence. In a short time, however, Mr. Rich- 
ardson's frankness and geniality made me more cheerful. 
He appeared to take pride in inducting me into my duties, and 
I responded with alacrity. He had an extremely pleasant 
manner, the candour of Harry, without his vulgarity. Before 
an hour had passed, I was looking up to him as to a big brother, 
and was asking him all sorts of questions respecting the gentle- 
man who had taken me out of the street and started me so 
pleasantly in life. 

From Mr. Richardson I learned that he was a kind of broker 
who dealt between planters up-river and merchants in New 
Orleans, and traded through a brother with Havana and 
other West Indian ports. He had a desk in the store, which 
he made use of when in town, and did a good deal of safe 
business in produce both with Mr. Speake and other wholesale 
merchants. He travelled much up and down the river, taking 
large consignments with him for back settlements up the 
Arkansas, Washita, and Saline, and other rivers, and return- 
ing often with cotton and other articles. His name was 
Mr. Stanley. His wife lived in St. Charles Street, in a first- 
class boarding-house, and, from the style Mr. and Mrs. 
Stanley kept up, he thought they must be pretty well off. 
This was the extent of the information Mr. Richardson could 
give me, which was most gratifying, and assured me that I had 
at least one friend in the strange city. 

There have been several memorable occasions in my life; 
but, among them, this first initial stage towards dignity and 
independence must ever be prominent. What a proud, glad 
holiday-spirit moved me then ! I soon became sensible of a 
kindling elation of feeling, for the speech of all to me was as 
though everyone recognised that I had entered into the great 
human fraternity. The abruptness of the transition, from the 
slave of yesterday into the free-man of to-day, endowed with 
a sacred inviolability of person, astonished me. Only a few 
hours ago, I was as one whose skull might be smashed at the 



AT WORK 91 

impulse of a moment ; and now, in an instant, as it were, I was 
free of the severe thraldom, and elevated to the rank of man. 

Messrs. Kennicy and Richardson were good types of free- 
spoken young America. They were both touchy in the ex- 
treme, and, on points of personal honour, highly intolerant. 
America breeds such people by thousands, who appear to live 
eternally on the edge of resentment, and to be as inflammable 
as tinder. It is dangerous to deal with them in badinage, 
irony, sarcasm, or what we call 'chaff.' Before the expiration 
of the first day, I had noted that their high spirits scarcely 
brooked a reproof, or contradiction, the slightest approach to 
anything of the kind exciting them to a strange heat. When 
I saw that they became undisguisedly angry because Mr. 
Speake happened to ask them why some order for goods had 
not been completed, I really could not help feeling a little 
contempt for them. Otherwise, they were both estimable 
young men, clean as new pins, exquisitely dressed, and emi- 
nently cordial — especially Richardson, whom I warmly 
admired. 

My first day's employment consisted in assisting Dan and 
Samuel, the two negroes, in taking groceries on trucks from 
the depths of the long store to the sidewalk, or rolling liquor 
or flour-barrels on the edges of thin boards, — an art I ac- 
quired very soon, — and in marking sundry lots for shipment 
to Mississippi ports with strange names, such as Bayou 
Placquemine, Attakapas, Opelousas, etc., etc. Richardson 
was, in the meantime, busy in making out bills of lading, and 
arranging with the pursers of the steamers for their trans- 
portation. The drays clattered to the door, and removed the 
goods as fast as we could get them ready. Every moment of 
the day added to my rapture. The three lofts above the 
ground-floor contained piles upon piles of articles such as 
could be comprised under the term groceries, besides rare 
wines and brandies, liqueurs and syrups. The ground-floor 
was piled up to the ceiling almost with sacks of coffee-berries, 
grains, and cases of miscellanea, barrels of flour, tierces of 
bacon, hams, etc., etc. It was informing even to read the 
titles on the neatly-branded cases, which contained bottled 
fruit, tinned jams, berries of all kinds, scented soaps, candles, 
vermicelli, macaroni, and other strange things. If I but 



92 HENRY M. STANLEY 

stepped on the sidewalk, I saw something new and unheard- 
of before. The endless drays thundering by the door, and the 
multitudes of human beings, not one of whom was. like the 
other in head-gear or dress, had a fascination for me; and, 
with every sound and sight, I was learning something new. 

While influenced by all these things, I sprang upon work of 
any kind with an avid desire to have it completed; but the 
negroes did their utmost to suppress my boisterous exuberance 
of spirit by saying, 'Take it easy, little boss, don't kill your- 
self. Plenty of time. Leave something for to-morrow.' Had 
the mates of the 'Windermere' but looked in upon us, they 
might have learned that a happy crew had more work in them, 
than when driven by belaying-pins and rope's ends. 

Towards evening we swept up; and, when we had tidied 
the store, it came to my mind that I knew no lodging-house. 
In consulting with Dan, he said he knew a Mrs. Williams, 
who kept a nice, cheap boarding-house on St. Thomas Street, 
where I could be most comfortable. It was arranged that he 
should introduce me, and I walked up Tchapitoulas Street, 
with the two slaves, whose tin lunch-buckets swung heavily, 
I thought, as they moved homeward. 

Mrs. Williams, a young and black beauty, with intelligent 
features, was most affable, and agreed to board me at a rate 
which would leave me a respectable margin at the end of the 
week, and to give me a large attic room for myself. Her house 
was of wood, with a garden in front, and a spacious tree- 
shaded yard at the rear. The maternal solicitude she showed 
in providing for my comfort greatly charmed me, though I was 
forced to smile at her peculiar English and drawling accent. 
But when, just as I was about to retire to my bedroom, she, in 
the most matter-of-fact way, assisted me to undress, and took 
possession of my shirt and collar, saying they would be washed 
and ironed by morning, that I might look more 'spruce,' my 
estimation of her rose very high indeed, and afifected me to 
such a degree that I revolved all the kindnesses I had experi- 
enced during the day, and was reminded to give thanks to 
Him, Who, 'like as a father, pitieth his children and them 
that fear Him.' 

The next morning, by half-past six, I was at the door of 
Speake and McCreary's store, fit for any amount of work, and 



AT WORK 93 

glorying In my condition. By eight o'clock the store, which 
was about one hundred feet long, was sweet and clean, the 
sidewalk was swept, and the earlier instalments of goods duly 
arranged on it for shipment. Then the book-keeper and ship- 
ping-clerk entered, fresh and scented as for courtship, took 
off their street coats, and donning their linen 'dusters,* 
resumed business. About nine, Mr. James Speake — Mc- 
Creary was dead — appeared with the mien of gracious mas- 
terhood, which to me was a sign of goodness, and stimulative 
of noble efforts in his service.^ 

My activity and fresh memory were soon appreciated. Half- 
a-dozen times a day my ready answers saved time. My hear- 
ing seemed to them to be phenomenal ; and my accuracy in 
remembering the numbers of kegs, cases, and sacks remain- 
ing in store, caused me, before the end of the week, to be 
regarded as a kind of walking inventory. I could tell where 
each article was located, and the contents of the various lofts 
had also been committed to my memory. Unlike the young 
gentlemen, I never argued, or contradicted, or took advantage 
of a pettish ebullition to aggravate temper; and, what was a 
great relief to persons with responsibilities in a warm climate, 
I was always at hand, near the glass-door of the office, await- 
ing orders. Previous to my arrival, Dan and Samuel had 
always found something to do at a distance, either upstairs 
or in the back-yard ; they pretended not to hear ; and it had 
been a fatiguing task to call them, and trying to the patience 
to wait for them; but now I was within easy hail, and my 
promptitude was commended. Thereupon my week's trial 
ended satisfactorily, even more so than I had anticipated, for 
I was permanently engaged at twenty-five dollars a month. 
Such a sum left me with fifteen dollars a month, net, after 
payment of board and lodging, and was quite a fortune in 

* Early in 189 1, 1 visited New Orleans, with my husband. He tried to find the houses 
and places he had known as a boy. The following remarks are from his note-book : — 

'We walked up Canal Street, and took the cars at Tchapitoulas Street, as far as An- 
nunciation Street. Looked at No. 1659, which resembles the house I sought; continued 
down to No. 1323 — above Thalis Street; this also resembled the house, but it is now 
occupied by two families ; in former days, the house had but one occupant. I seemed 
to recognize it by its attics. The houses no doubt have been re-numbered. We then 
returned to Tchapitoulas Street, and thence into St. Peter's Street, which formerly was, 
I think. Commerce Street. Speake's house was between Common and Canal Street — 
No. 3. Here, also, there has been a change; No. 3 is now No. 5. The numbers of the 
next houses are now in the hundreds.' 



94 HENRY M. STANLEY 

my eyes. Mr. Speake, moreover, advanced a month's pay, 
that I might procure an outfit. Mr. Richardson, who boarded 
in the more fashionable Rampart Street, undertook to assist 
in my purchases, and presented me with a grand, brass-bound 
trunk of his own, which, besides having a tray for shirts, and 
a partition for neck-ties and collars, was adorned on the lid 
with the picture of a lovely maiden. Truly, a boy is easily 
pleased ! I had more joy in contemplating that first trunk of 
mine, and imprisoning my treasures under lock and key, than 
I have had in any property since ! 

My rating was now a junior clerk. Our next-door neigh- 
bours, Messrs. Hall and Kemp, employed two junior clerks, 
whose pay was four hundred dollars a year. They were happy, 
careless lads, who dressed well, and whose hardest toil was with 
the marking-pot. I was now as presentable as they, but I 
own to be proud that I had no fear of soiling my hands or 
clothes with work, and I never allowed a leaky sack of coffee, 
or barrel of flour, to leave our store for want of a little sewing 
or coopering — tasks which they felt it to be beneath them 
to do! 

Long before the 'Windermere' had sailed back for Liver- 
pool with her cotton cargo, a great change had come over me. 
Up to my arrival in New Orleans, no indulgence had been 
shown me. I was scarcely an hour away from the supervision 
of someone. From my nurse's maternal care, I had passed 
under the strict regime of the Orphan's Academy — the Work- 
house; thence I had been transferred to the no-less-strict 
guardianship of Aunt Mary, and the severe Moses, thence into 
that of Uncle Tom ; and, afterwards, had tasted of the terrible 
discipline of an American packet-ship. Draconian rules had 
been prescribed; the birch hung ever in view in one place, 
censure and menace at another. At Uncle Tom's there was 
no alternative but obedience or the street; and the packet- 
ship was furnished with rope's ends and belaying-pins. But, 
within a few weeks of arriving in America, I had become 
different in temper and spirit. That which was natural in me, 
though so long repressed, had sprung out very quickly under 
the peculiar influence of my surroundings. The childish fear 
of authority had fled — for authority no longer wore its stem, 
relentless aspect, but was sweetly reasonable. Those who 



AT WORK 95 

exercised it were gentle and sociable, and I repaid them with 
respect and gratitude. To them I owed my happiness; and 
my new feeling of dignity made me stretch myself to my full 
height, and revel luxuriously in fond ideas. I possessed pro- 
perties in my person which I instinctively valued, and felt 
bound to cultivate. The two-feet square of the street I oc- 
cupied were mine for the time being, and no living man could 
budge me except at his peril. The view of the sky was as freely 
mine as another's. These American rights did not depend 
on depth of pocket, or stature of a man, but every baby had 
as much claim to them as the proudest merchant. Neither 
poverty nor youth was degrading, nor was it liable to abuse 
from, wealth or age. Besides my youth, activity, and intelli- 
gence, of which I had been taught the value, I had become 
conscious of the fact that I possessed privileges of free speech, 
free opinions, immunity from insult, oppression, and the con- 
tempt of class ; and that, throughout America, my treatment 
from men would solely depend upon my individual character, 
without regard of family or pedigree. These were proud 
thoughts. I respired more freely, my shoulders rose con- 
siderably, my back straightened, my strides became longer, 
as my mind comprehended this new feeling of independence. 
To the extent of so much I could not be indebted to any man 
living ; but for the respectability of the covering and comfort 
of the body, and the extension of my rights to more ground 
than I could occupy standing, I must work. 

Inspired of these thoughts, I was becoming as un-English in 
disposition as though I had been forty years in the land, and, 
as old Sir Thomas Browne puts it, 'of a constitution so gen- 
eral that it consorted and sympathised' with things American. 
My British antipathies and proclivities were dropping from 
me as rapidly as the littlenesses of my servile life were re- 
placed by the felicities of freedom. I shared in the citizens' 
pride in their splendid port, the length and stability of their 
levee, their unparalleled lines of shipping, their magnificent 
array of steamers, and their majestic river. I believed, with 
them, that their Custom-House, when completed, would be a 
matchless edifice, that Canal Street was unequalled for its 
breadth, that Tchapitoulas Street was, beyond compare, the 
busiest street in the world, that no markets equalled those of 



96 HENRY M. STANLEY 

New Orleans for their variety of produce, and that no city, 
not even Liverpool, could exhibit such mercantile enterprise, 
or such a smart go-ahead spirit, as old and young manifested in 
the chief city of the South. I am not sure that I have lost all 
that lively admiration yet, though I have since seen dozens 
of cities more populous, more cultivated, and more opulent. 
Many years of travel have not extinguished my early faith, 
but it would require ages to eradicate my affection for the 
city which first taught me that a boy may become a man. 

Had the joylessness of boyhood endured a few years longer, 
it is probable that the power of joyousness would have dried 
up; but, fortunately, though I had seen fifteen summers, I 
was a mere child in experience. It was only eighteen months 
since I had left St. Asaph, and but two months and a half since 
I had entered the world outside my family. Since I became a 
man, I have often wondered what would have become of me 
had my melting mood that last night at Roscommon Street 
lasted a little longer. It was the turning-point of my life, I 
am disposed to think, and it was good for me to have had the 
courage to say 'No,* at that critical moment. A trifle more 
perseverance, on the part of Uncle Tom, would have overcome 
my inclination for departure from England, and made me a 
fixture within his own class. On that occasion my weakly, 
half-hearted negative served me to good purpose ; but I should 
have been spared many trials had I been educated to utter my 
* Noes ' more often, more loudly, and more firmly than I have ; 
and I suppose most men have had cause to condemn that 
unsatisfactory education which sent them into the world so 
imperfectly equipped for moral resistance. In my opinion, 
the courage to deliver a proper 'No' ought to be cultivated as 
soon as a child's intelligence is sufficiently advanced. The 
few times I have been able to say it have been productive of 
immense benefit to me, though to my shame, be it said, I 
yearned to say 'Yes.' 

That soft habit of becoming fondly attached to associa- 
tions, which made me weep on leaving St. Asaph, Ffynnon 
Beuno, Brynford, Liverpool, and even the 'Windermere,* 
made me cling to my attic room in the house of Mrs. Williams. 
My increase of pay enabled me to secure a larger and more 
comfortable room; but, detesting change, I remained its oc- 



AT WORK 97 

cupant. My self-denial was compensated, however, by a fine 
surplus of dollars, with which I satisfied a growing desire for 
books. 

So far, all the story-books I had read, beyond the fragments 
found in School-readers, consisted of that thrilling romance 
about Enoch and his brothers, a novelette called ' First Foot- 
steps in Evil,' ' Kaloolah,' by Dr. Mayo, which I had found at 
Ffynnon Beuno, and 'Ivanhoe,' in three volumes, at which I 
had furtively glanced as it lay open in my cousin's study at 
Brynford. 

Through the influence of cheap copies of standard books, 
millions of readers in America have been educated, at slight 
cost, in the best productions of English authors; and when 
these have been relegated to the second-hand bookstalls, it is 
wonderful what a library one can possess at a trifling expense. 
There was such a stall existing conveniently near St. Thomas 
Street, which I daily passed ; and I could never resist fingering 
the books, and snatching brief delights from their pages. As 
soon as my wardrobe was established, I invested my surplus 
in purchases of this description, and the bookseller, seeing a 
promising customer in me, allowed me some latitude in my 
selection, and even catered to my tastes. The state of the 
binding mattered little ; it was the contents that fascinated 
me. My first prize that I took home was Gibbon's * Decline 
and Fall,* in four volumes, because it was associated with 
Brynford lessons. I devoured it now for its own sake. Little 
by little, I acquired Spenser's 'Faery Queen,' Tasso's 'Jerusa- 
lem Delivered,' Pope's 'Iliad,' Dryden's 'Odyssey,' 'Paradise 
Lost,' Plutarch's 'Lives,' Simplicius on Epictetus, a big 
'History of the United States,' the last of which I sadly 
needed, because of my utter ignorance of the country I was in. 

Mrs. Williams gave me a few empty cases, out of which, 
with the loan of a saw, hammer, and nails, I constructed a 
creditable book-case ; and, when it was put up, I do believe 
my senses contained as much delight as they were able to 
endure, without making me extravagant in behaviour. My 
attic became my world now, and a very great expansible 
world, full of kings, emperors, knights, warriors, heroes, and 
angels. Without, it might have been better, less sordid ; 
within, it was glorious for great deeds and splendid pageantry. 



98 HENRY M. STANLEY 

It affected my dreams, for I dreamed of the things that I had 
read. I was transported into Trojan Fields, and Odyssean 
Isles, and Roman Palaces; and my saturated brain revolved 
prose as stately as Gibbon's, and couplets that might have 
been a credit to Pope, only, if I chanced to remember at day- 
break what I had been busy upon throughout the night, the 
metre and rhyme were shameful ! 

My self-indulgence in midnight readings was hurtful to my 
eyes, but they certainly interposed between me and other 
harms. The passion of study was so absorbing that it effect- 
ually prevented the intrusion of other passions, while it did 
not conflict with day-work at the store. Hall and Kemp's 
young gentlemen sometimes awoke in me a languid interest 
in Ben de Bar's Theatrical troupe, or in some great actor ; but, 
on reaching home, my little library attracted my attention, 
and a dip into a page soon effaced all desire for other plea- 
sure. What I am I owe to example, nature, school-education, 
reading, travel, observation, and reflection. An infinitesimal 
amount of the mannerisms observed clung to me, no doubt. 
The housewifely orderliness of Aunt Mary, the serious propri- 
ety of Cousin Moses, — then, when I went to sea, the stern 
voice of the captain, the ripping, explosive manner of the 
mates, the reckless abandon of the sailors, — after that, the 
conscientious yielding of myself to details of business, — all 
this left indelible impressions on me. 

About the fourth week Mr. Stanley returned, with a new 
batch of orders. He warmly congratulated me upon my im- 
proved appearance, and confidentially whispered to me that 
Mr. Speake was thoroughly satisfied with my devotion to 
business. He gave me his card, and said that on the following 
Sunday he would be glad to see me at breakfast. 

When the day arrived, I went to St. Charles Street, a 
quarter greatly superior to St. Thomas Street. The houses 
were aristocratic, being of classic design, with pillared porti- 
coes, and wide, cool verandahs, looking out upon garden-shrub- 
bery and flowering magnolias. Mr. Stanley was in an easy- 
chair, awaiting me. But for that, I should have hesitated at 
mounting the wide steps, so imposing the establishment 
appeared. He took me by the hand to an ample room luxuri- 



AT WORK 99 

ously furnished, and introduced me to a fragile little lady, who 
was the picture of refinement. My reception was of such a 
character that it led me to believe she was as tender and mild 
as her quiet and subdued looks ; and the books on the centre 
table made me think her pious. Nothing could have been 
better calculated to conquer my shyness than the gracious 
welcome she accorded me. We took our respective places at 
once, she as a motherly patroness, and I as a devotedly- 
grateful protege, fully sensible of what was due to her as the 
wife of my benefactor. Her husband stood towering over me 
with his hand on my head, and an encouraging smile on his 
face, that I might speak out without fear ; and he watched the 
impression I made on his wife. The ordeal of presentation 
was made easy through her natural goodness, and the gentle 
art she possessed of winning my confidence. She placed me on 
a divan near her, and I was soon prattling away with a glib- 
ness that a few minutes before would have been deemed im- 
possible to such a stocky boy. 

To confine within a sentence my impressions of the first 
lady I ever conversed with, is entirely beyond my power. 
There was an atmosphere about her, in the first place, which 
was wholly new. The elaborateness and richness of dress, the 
purity and delicacy of her face, the exquisite modulations of 
her voice, the distinctness of her enunciation, and the sweet 
courtesy of her manner, I will not say awed me, but it kindled 
as much of reverence as ever I felt in my life. If I were to com- 
bine this with a feeling that the being beside me might com- 
mand me to endure practically any torture, or dare any danger, 
for her sake, it will perhaps sum up the effect which this gen- 
tlewoman made on my raw mind. It was at this hour I made 
the discovery of the immense distance between a lady and a 
mere woman ; and, while I gazed at her clear, lustrous eyes, 
and noted the charms which played about her features, I was 
thinking that, if a lady could be so superior to an ordinary 
housewife, with her careless manner of speech, and matter-of- 
fact ways, what a beautiful thing an angel must be ! 

When we adjourned to the breakfast- table, I found more 
material to reflect upon. There were about a dozen people, 
of about the age and rank of Mr. and Mrs. Stanley, at the 
table ; and it struck me that there was an almost impassable 



100 HENRY M. STANLEY 

gulf between me and them. Their conversation was beyond 
my understanding, mostly, though I could spell and interpret 
each word ; but the subjects of their talk left me in the clouds. 
Their remarks upon literature, politics, and social life, seemed 
to me most appropriate to books ; but it surprised me to think 
that people could exchange so much learning across a table 
with the fluency of boys discussing the quality of pudding. 
Their soothing manner of address, the mutual respect, and 
deferent temper, greatly elevated them above my coarse- 
grained acquaintances; and, though they must have guessed, 
by my manner and age, that I did not belong to their sphere, 
they paid me the honour of including me in their courteous 
circle, until, unconsciously, I was straining to acquit myself 
worthily. Altogether, it was a memorable breakfast ; and, 
when I reached home, it seemed to me that fortune was about 
to spoil me ; otherwise, why this glow and pride that I felt ? 
After this Sunday, my acquaintance with Mr. Stanley 
rapidly ripened into something exceeding common gratitude. 
His bearing towards me was different from that which any- 
body else showed to me. Many were kind and approving; 
but, nevertheless, no one stooped to court my notice with that 
warm, genial manner which distinguished Mr. Stanley. I 
felt frequently flattered by the encomiums of Mr. Speake, and 
the friendship of Richardson ; but still, there was something 
of reserve between us, which kept me somewhat tongue-tied 
in their presence. They never inquired about my welfare or 
health, or how I liked my boarding-house, or what I thought 
of anything, or made any suggestion which would stimulate 
confidence. Their talks with me were all about the business 
appertaining to the store, or some hap-hazard remark about 
the weather, or some scene in the street ; but Mr. Stanley's 
way was as though it specially concerned him to know every- 
thing about me personally, which had the quality of drawing 
me out, and making me garrulous, to the verge of familiarity. 
So, little by little, I came to regard him as an elderly associate, 
with such a charming, infectious frankness, that I could only, 
for want of a comparison, remember my affection for my 
old grandfather, as corresponding with the mixed feelings 
of regard and awe I had towards him. Besides, to be in his 
company, even for a brief time, was an education for one so 



AT WORK loi 

ignorant as myself. Information about somebody or some- 
thing dropped from his lips with every remark he made. I 
felt myself becoming intelligent, informed about the geography 
and history of the city and state that I was in, and learned in 
the ways and customs of the people. The great merchants and 
institutions assumed a greater interest for me. They were 
something more than strange names for repetition ; they had 
associations which revealed personalities of worth, colossal 
munificence, remunerative enterprise, etc., etc. 

Every Sunday morning I spent with the Stanleys, and the 
instantaneous impression I had received of their goodness 
was more than confirmed. Mrs. Stanley seemed to become 
at each visit more tender and caressingly kind, in the same 
manner as he manifested a more paternal cordiality. I 
yielded myself wholly to their influence, so that my conduct 
when out of their sight was governed by the desire to retain 
their good opinions. Without them, probably, my love of 
books would have proved sufficient safe-guard against the 
baser kind of temptations; but, with them, I was rendered 
almost impregnable to vice. They took me to church, each 
Sabbath ; and, in other ways, manifested a protective care. 
I resumed the custom of morning and evening prayer, my 
industry at the store was of a more thoughtful kind, my 
comings and goings were of more exemplary punctuality. The 
orderly, industrious life I was following not only ensured 
me the friendship of the Stanleys, but won me favour from 
Mr. Speake, who, though wearing often a somewhat anxious 
expression, restrained himself whenever he had an occasion to 
communicate with me. 

In the third month there was a change at the store. Mr. 
Speake had some words with Mr. Kennicy, the book-keeper, 
who, being, as I said, touchy, resigned on the spot. A Mr. 
J. D. Kitchen was employed in his stead, and Mr. Speake saw 
fit to increase my salary to thirty dollars a month, giving for 
his reason the fact that the store had never been in such ad- 
mirable order as it had been since I had entered it. I was 
immensely proud, of course, at this acknowledgement ; but it 
was only natural that, being so susceptible and impressionable, 
it should stimulate me to greater efforts to deserve his appro- 
bation. Enlightening me, as it did, in duties expected of me, 



102 HENRY M. STANLEY 

it might be said to have increased my interest in the condition 
of the store, until it partook of that which a fond proprietor 
might feel in it. Envious, or ill-natured, people might have 
said it was fussy, or officious. At any rate, this disposition 
to have everything clean, to keep the stacks in orderly ar- 
rangement, to be on hand when wanted, to keep my notes of 
shipment methodically, to be studiously bent upon perfection 
in my duties, led to the following incident. 

We were ordered to take stock, and, while counting cases, 
and sacks, and barrels, etc., I had now and then to rearrange 
the stacks, because, in the hurry of business, a box of pickles 
or jams had become mixed with biscuits or candle-boxes; 
and, in handling these articles, it struck me that several of 
them were uncommonly light. I mentioned this, but it did 
not attract much attention. It was discovered, also, that the 
coffee-sacks were much slacker than they ought to be; but, 
though the rents through which the contents must have 
escaped appeared as if made by rats, as the quantity of ber- 
ries on the ground was inadequate to the loss, I knew no other 
way in which to account for it. However, when, on going to 
the lofts, we gauged the contents of the wine-puncheons and 
§yrup-barrels, and found them to be half-emptied, matters 
began to look serious. The leakage on the floor was not suffi- 
cient to explain the loss of so many gallons ; and the discussion 
between the book-keeper and shipping-clerk suggested trouble 
when the ' old man' would be informed. From what I gathered, 
the former book-keeper, Mr. Kennicy, was supposed to be 
in fault. We were short of several boxes of biscuits, sardines, 
and other articles ; and it seemed obvious that Mr. Kennicy 
must have omitted to enter sales on his book, and thus 
caused this unexpected discrepancy. 

Mr. Speake, as had been anticipated, exhibited much vexa- 
tion, though, in the presence of Mr. Kitchen and Mr. Richard- 
son, he could only ask, querulously, * How could such articles 
disappear in such a disproportionate manner? We do not 
sell by retail. If we sold wine, or syrup, at all, we would sell 
by the cask, or barrel, and not by the gallon. The barrels seem 
to tally, but the contents are diminished in some mysterious 
manner. Then there are the emptied cases, of which this boy 
has spoken : how can we account for bottles taken from one, 



AT WORK 103 

and tins from another? The invoices were checked when the 
goods came in, and no deficiency was reported to me. There 
is gross carelessness somewhere, and it must be looked into,' 
etc., etc. 

Both Mr. Kitchen and Mr. Richardson, under this argu- 
ment, laboured under the sense of reproach, and I was not 
wholly free from a feeling of remissness. I strove hard to re- 
member whether in conveying the cases to their respective 
piles, or hoisting the barrels to the lofts, a suspicion of light 
weight had entered my mind ; and while filled with a sense of 
doubt and misgiving, I proceeded to hunt for a broom to 
sweep up, before closing. I found one in the corner of the 
back-yard ; but, on drawing it to me, a tin lunch-bucket was 
disclosed, the sight of which in such an unexpected place 
suggested that the broom had been placed to screen it from 
view. On taking hold of it, I was amazed at its weight ; but, 
on lifting the lid, I no longer wondered, for it was three- 
fourths full of golden syrup. It flashed across my mind that 
here was the solution of the mystery that troubled us, and 
that, if one bucket was made the means of surreptitiously 
conveying golden syrup, a second might be used for the same 
purpose. On searching for the other negro's bucket, I found 
it placed high above my reach, on a peg, and under his out- 
door coat. Seizing a board, I struck it underneath, and a few 
drops of a dark aromatic liquor trickled down the sides. As, 
now, there could be no reason to doubt that the culprits had 
been discovered, I hastened to the office to give my infor- 
mation. 

By great good-luck, Mr. Stanley appeared at that moment, 
and I at once acquainted him with what I had found. Mr, 
Richardson joined us, and, when he had heard it, he became 
hotly indignant, and cried, ' I see it all now. Come on, let us 
inform Mr. Speake, and have this affair cleared up at once !' 

Mr. Speake and Mr. Kitchen were in the office turning over 
ledger, journal, and day-book, comparing entries, when we 
burst upon them with the discovery. Mr. Speake was aston- 
ished and exclaimed, 'There now, who would have thought 
of these fellows ? A systematic robbery has been going on for 
goodness knows how long!' 

While breathlessly discussing the matter, we suddenly 



104 HENRY M. STANLEY 

remembered various strange proceedings of the negroes, and 
our suspicions were excited that there must be certain secret 
nests of stores somewhere in the building; and Richardson 
and I were sent off to explore. The same idea seemed to be 
in our minds, for we first searched the dark alleys between the 
goods-piles, and, in a short time, we had lit upon the secret 
hoards. Hams, sardines, and tins of biscuits, packages of can- 
dles, etc., etc., were found between the hogsheads and tierces ; 
and, when we had carried them to the office, the indignation 
of everyone was very high. 

Dan and Samuel had been all this time in the upper lofts, and 
were now called down. When questioned as to their opinions 
about the disappearance of certain articles, they both denied 
all knowledge, and affected the ignorance of innocence; but, 
when they were sharply told to lead us to their tin buckets, 
their features underwent a remarkable change, and assumed 
a strange grey colour. Dan pretended to forget where he 
had placed his bucket ; but, when Mr. Speake took him by 
the collar and led him to the broom that hid it, he fell on his 
knees, and begged his master's pardon. Mr. Speake was, 
however, too angry to listen to him, and, snatching the lid 
off, revealed to us half a gallon of the best golden syrup, which 
the wretch had intended to have taken home. When Sam's 
useful utensil was examined, it was found that its owner had 
a preference for sweet Malmsey wine ! 

A constable was called in, and Dan and Samuel were 
marched off to the watch-house, to receive on the next day such 
a flogging as only practised State-officials know how to ad- 
minister. Dan, a few days later, was reinstated at the store ; 
but Samuel was disposed of to a planter, for field-work. 

The last Sunday morning Mr. Stanley was in the city, on 
this occasion, was marked with a visit he paid to me at my 
humble boarding-house. He was pleased to express his great 
surprise that, at that early hour, my attic was arranged as 
though for inspection. He scrutinised my book-case, and re- 
marked that I had a pretty broad taste, and suggested that 
I should procure various books which he mentioned. In self- 
defence, I was obliged to plead poverty, and explained that my 
books were only such as I could obtain at a second-hand book- 
stall. He finally condescended to breakfast with me, and made 



AT WORK 105 

himself especially agreeable to Mrs. Williams and her guests ; 
after which, we went to church, and thence he took me to 
dine with him. In the afternoon, we drove in a carriage down 
Levee Street, past the French Market, and I was shown many 
of the public buildings, banks, and squares; and, later, we 
took a short railway trip to Lake Ponchartrain, which is a 
fair piece of water, and is a great resort for bathers. When 
we returned to the city, late in the evening, I was fairly in- 
structed in the topography of the city and neighbourhood, 
and had passed a most agreeable and eventful day. 

On the next evening, I found a parcel addressed to me, 
which, when opened, disclosed a dozen new books in splendid 
green and blue covers, bearing the names of Shakespeare, 
Byron, Irving, Goldsmith, Ben Jonson, Cowper, etc. They 
were a gift from Mr. Stanley, and in each book was his auto- 
graph. 

The summer of 1859, according to Mr. Richardson, was 
extremely unhealthy. Yellow fever and dysentery were rag- 
ing. What a sickly season meant I could not guess; for, in 
those days, I never read a newspaper, and the city traffic, to 
all appearance, was much as usual. On Mr. Speake's face, 
however, I noticed lines of suffering ; and one day he was so 
ill that he could not attend to business. Three or four days 
later, he was dead ; and a message came from the widow that 
I should visit her, at her home, at the corner of Girod and 
Carondelet Streets. She was now in a state of terrible distress, 
and, clad in heavy mourning, she impressed me with very 
sombre thoughts. It comforted her to hear how sensible we 
all were of her loss; and then she communicated to me her 
reasons for desiring my presence. Through her husband she 
had been made aware of my personal history, and, on account 
of the interest it had excited in her, she had often induced her 
husband to tell her every incident at the store. She proceeded 
to reveal to me the flattering opinion he had formed of me, 
in terms that augmented my grief ; and, as a mark of special 
favour, I was invited to stay in the house .until after the 
funeral. 

That night, I was asked to watch the dead, a duty of which 
I was wholly unaware before. The body rested in a splendid 
open coffin, covered with muslin, but the ghastliness of death 



io6 HENRY M. STANLEY 

was somewhat relieved by the Sunday costume in which the 
defunct merchant was clothed. When the traffic of the streets 
had ceased, and the silence of the night had fallen on the 
city, the shadows in the ill-lit room grew mysterious. About 
midnight, I dozed a little, but suddenly woke up with an 
instinctive feeling that the muslin had moved ! I sprang to 
my feet, and memories of spectral tales were revived. Was it 
an illusion, begotten of fear? Was Mr. Speake really dead? 
There was, at that moment, another movement, and I pre- 
pared to give the alarm; but a sacrilegious 'meow' betrayed 
the character of the ghost ! A second later, it was felled by a 
bolster ; and, in its haste to escape, the cat entangled its claws 
in the muslin, and tore and spat in a frenzy ; but this was the 
means of saving me from the necessity of chasing the wretched 
animal along the corridors, for, as it was rushing through the 
door, I caught the veil. 

The next day, a long procession wound through the streets 
towards the cemetery.^ The place of interment was sur- 
rounded by a high wall, which contained several square tab- 
lets, commemorative, as I supposed, of the dead lying in the 
earth ; but I was much shocked when I learned that, behind 
each tablet, was a long narrow cell wherein bodies were cor- 
rupting. One of these cells had just been opened, and was 
destined for the body of my late employer ; but, unfortunately 
for my feelings, not far off lay, huddled in a corner, the relics 
of mortality which had occupied it previously, and which 
had been ruthlessly displaced. 

Within a short time, the store, with all its contents, was 
disposed of by auction, to Messrs. Ellison and McMillan. 
Messrs. Kitchen and Richardson departed elsewhere, but I 
was retained by the new firm. Mrs. Cornelia Speake and her 
two children removed to Louisville, and I never saw either 
of them again. 

About this time there came to Mrs. Williams's boarding- 
house a blue-eyed and fair-haired lad, of about my own age, 
seeking lodgings. As the house was full, the landlady insisted 

* From Note-Book : — 

'In the morning, hired hack, visited Saint Roch's, or Campo Santo, St. Louis — 
I, 2, 3, & 4, Cemeteries — drove to Girod's Cemetery — examined book, and found that 
James Speake died October 26th, and was buried October 27th, 1859, aged 47.' 



AT WORK 107 

on accommodating him in my room, and bedding him with 
me; and, on finding that the boy was English, and just ar- 
rived from Liverpool, I assented to her arrangement. 

My intended bed-fellow called himself Dick Heaton, and 
described himself as having left Liverpool in the ship * Poca- 
hontas,' as a cabin-boy. He also had been a victim to the 
hellish brutality of Americans at sea, the steward apparently 
having been as callous and cruel as Nelson of the 'Winder- 
mere' ; and, no sooner had his ship touched the pier, than the 
boy fled, as from a fury. Scarcely anything could have been 
better calculated to win my sympathy than the recital of 
experiences similar to my own, by one of my own age, and 
hailing from the same port that I had come from. 

Dick was clever and intelligent, though not well educated ; 
but, to make up for his deficiency in learning, he was gifted 
with a remarkable fluency, and had one of the cheeriest 
laughs, and a prettiness of manner which made up for all 
defects. 

Our bed was a spacious four-poster, and four slim lads like 
us might have been easily accommodated in it. I observed, 
however, with silent surprise, that he was so modest he would 
not retire by candle-light, and that when he got into bed he 
lay on the verge of it, far removed from contact with me. 
When I rose in the morning, I found that he was not un- 
dressed, which he explained by saying that he had turned in 
thus from the habit of holding himself ready for a call. On 
beginning his voyage he had been so severely thrashed for a 
delay caused by dressing, that he had scarcely dared to take 
off his boots during the whole voyage. He also told me that, 
when he had discovered how almost impossible it was to avoid 
a beating from the steward and cook, he had resorted to the 
expedient of padding the seat of his trousers with cotton, and 
wearing a pad of the same material along the spine, but to 
avert suspicion that he was thus cunningly fortified against 
the blows, he had always continued to howl as freely as before. 
The naivete of the revelation was most amusing, though I was 
surprised at the shameless way in which he disclosed his 
tricks and cowardly fears. However, it did not deter me 
from responding to his friendly advances, and in two days I 
came to regard him as a very charming companion. The 



io8 HENRY M. STANLEY 

third morning, being Sunday, we chatted longer abed ; but, 
when rising together, I cast a glance at his hips, and remarked 
that he need have no fear of being thrashed at New Orleans. 
He appeared a little confused at first, but, suddenly remem- 
bering, he said that on the Monday he would have to purchase 
a new pair of trousers and seek work. A little later, it struck 
me that there was an unusual forward inclination of the body, 
and a singular leanness of the shoulders, compared with the 
fulness below the waist in him; and I remarked that he 
walked more like a girl than a boy. *So do you,* he retorted, 
with a liberty natural to our age, at which I only laughed. 

I proposed to him that we should breakfast at the French 
Market that morning, to which he willingly agreed. We 
walked down Levee Street, down to the foot of Canal Street, 
where we saw fifty or sixty river steamers assembled, which, 
massed together, made a most imposing sight. Turning to 
take a view of the scene up-river, with its miles upon miles 
of shipping, its levee choked with cotton, and other cargoes, 
he said that it was a finer sight than even the docks of Liver- 
pool. After a cup of coffee and some sugared waffles, we pro- 
ceeded on a tour through the old quarter of the city, and 
wandered past the Cathedral of St. Louis, and through Royal, 
Chartres, Burgundy, and Toulouse Streets, and, coming 
home by Rampart Street, entered Canal Street, and con- 
tinued our weary way, through Carondelet and St. Charles 
Streets, home, where we arrived heated and hungry. Dick 
had shown himself very observant, and professed to be as- 
tonished at the remarkable variety of complexions and ap- 
pearance of the population. So long as we were in the neigh- 
bourhood of the levee he had been rather shy, and had cast 
anxious glances about him, fearing recognition from some of 
the crew of the 'Pocahontas'; but, after we had gone into 
some of the back streets, he had been more at ease, and his 
remarks upon the types of people we met showed much 
shrewdness. 

Monday morning I woke at an early hour, to prepare my- 
self for the week's labour ; and, on looking towards Dick, who 
was still sound asleep, was amazed to see what I took to be 
two tumours on his breast. My ejaculation and start woke 
my companion. He asked what was the matter ? Pointing to 



AT WORK 109 

his open breast, I anxiously inquired if those were not 
painful ? 

He reddened, and, in an irritable manner, told me that I 
had better mind my own business ! Huffed at his ungracious- 
ness, I turned resentfully away. Almost immediately after, 
I reminded myself of his confusion, his strange manner of 
entering a clean bed with his clothes on, his jealous avoidance 
of the light, his affectation of modesty, his peculiar suppleness 
and mincing gait, and the odd style of his figure. These 
things shaped themselves rapidly into proofs that Dick was 
not what he represented himself to be. True, he had a boy's 
name, he wore boy's clothes, he had been a cabin-boy; but 
such a strange boy I had never seen. He talked far too much 
and too fluently, he was too tricky, too nimble, somehow. 
No, I was convinced he could not be a boy ! I sat up triumph- 
antly, and cried out with the delight of a discoverer : — 

' I know ! I know ! Dick, you are a girl !' 

Nevertheless, when he faced me, and unblushingly admitted 
the accusation, it frightened me ; and I sprang out of bed as 
though I had been scorched ! 

'What,' I exclaimed, 'do you mean to say you are a girl?' 

'Yes, I am,' said she, turning pale, as she became infected 
with my excitement. 

Perplexed at this astounding confirmation of what, after 
all, had been only a surmise of playful malice, I stammeringly 
demanded, — 

' Well, what is your name, then ? It cannot be Dick, for that 
belongs to a boy.' 

'I am Alice Heaton. There, now, you have my whole 
secret!' she said with asperity. 

'Alice Heaton !' I echoed, quite confounded at the feminine 
name; and I reproachfully asked, 'If you are a girl, say, what 
do you mean by coming into my bed, and passing yourself off 
as a boy?' 

She had kept up bravely so far, but she now answered me 
with tears and sobs, and every doubt of her sex vanished, 
while I was in such a medley of emotions that I stood like one 
utterly bereft of sense, not knowing what to do. Presently, 
she said, ' Come, let us dress, and I will tell you all about 
it.' 



no HENRY M. STANLEY 

I lost no time in doing what she advised ; and, after taking a 
turn or two in the yard, returned to find her ready for me. 

Now that her sex was revealed, I wondered that I had been 
so blind as not to perceive it before, for, in every movement, 
there was unmistakeable femininity. Alice made me sit down, 
and the substance of the story she now told me was as follows : 

She had been born at Everton, Liverpool, and, since she had 
begun to walk, she had lived with a severe old grandmother, 
who grew more cross as she aged. From childhood, she had 
known nothing but ill-treatment ; she was scolded and slapped 
perpetually. When she was twelve years of age, she began 
to struggle with her granny, and, in a short time, she proved 
that her strength was too great to be beaten by an infirm 
old woman ; little by little, her grandmother desisted from the 
attempt, but substituted, instead, the nagging system. As 
she approached her fourteenth year, her grandmother de- 
veloped a parsimony which made her positively hateful. 
Every crust she ate at the house was begrudged to her, though, 
so far as she knew, there was no cause for this pinching and 
starving. Her home contained evidences of respectability. 
The furniture was abundant and of good quality, and the 
many curios in the glass cases in the parlour showed that 
her parents had been in comfortable circumstances. How 
her grandmother obtained her means of living, Alice did not 
know ; but, judging from her dress and condition, her poverty 
was not so distressing as to be the cause of such extreme 
penuriousness. 

During the last five or six months, as she was getting on 
to fifteen, Alice had been acquainted with girlish neigh- 
bours, and through them, with some young middies who 
had just returned from their voyages. These had delighted 
to tell her friends of the wonders of foreign lands, and of the 
genial welcome they had met with from their foreign friends. 
The stories of their sea-life, and the pictures of America which 
they gave, fascinated her; and she secretly resolved that, 
upon the first violent outbreak of her grandmother's tem- 
per, she would try her fortune as a cabin-boy. With this view, 
every penny she could scrape, or steal, from her grandmother 
she hoarded, until, at last, she had enough to purchase from 
a slop-shop all she needed for a disguise. When her grand- 



AT WORK III 

mother finally broke out into a bad fit of temper, and, pro- 
voked by her defiance, ordered her out of the house, she was 
ready for her venture. She went to a barber's shop and had 
her hair cut close ; returning home, she dressed herself in boy's 
costume, and, with a sailor's bag on her back, entered a board- 
ing-house near the docks. A few days later, she had the good 
luck to be engaged as a cabin-boy by the captain of the ' Poca- 
hontas,' and, by careful conduct, escaped detection during 
the voyage, though nothing would avail her to avoid the rope's 
ending and cuffing of the steward and his fellow-ofhcers. 

By the time she had concluded her narrative, it was full 
time for me to depart to my work. We hurriedly agreed to 
consult together about future plans upon my return in the 
evening, and I left her with an assurance that all my means 
and help were at her service. All that day her extraordinary 
story occupied my mind, and, though she was undoubtedly 
an artful and bold character, her uncommon spirit compelled 
my admiration, while her condition was such as to compel 
my sympathy. 

At the closing hour I sped homeward, but, on arriving at 
Mrs. Williams's, I was told Alice had not been seen since the 
early morning. I waited many hours, but waited in vain. She 
was never seen, or heard of, by me again ; but I have hoped 
ever since that Fate was as propitious to her, as I think it 
was wise, in separating two young and simple creatures, who 
might have been led, through excess of sentiment, into folly. 

The next Sabbath after the disappearance of Alice, I paid 
my usual visit to Mrs. Stanley, and was shocked and grieved 
to hear, from her maid, Margaret, that she was seriously ill, 
and under medical treatment. A glass of ice-water which she 
had taken on Friday had been speedily followed by alarming 
symptoms of illness. She was now so prostrated by disease 
that she required constant attendance. Margaret's face be- 
trayed so much fatigue and anxiety that I tendered my serv- 
ices, and even begged her to employ me in any way. After 
a little hesitation, she said I might be useful in enabling her 
to take a little rest, if I would sit at the door, and, upon any 
movement or sound within the sick chamber, call her. I kept 
my post all through the day and night, and, though there 
were frequent calls on Margaret, her snatches of rest served to 



112 HENRY M. STANLEY 

maintain her strength. As I went off to my labour, I promised 
to soHcit a few days' leave from Mr. Ellison, and to return to 
her within the hour. 

Mr. Ellison, however, to whom I preferred my request for a 
few days' liberty, affected to regard me as though I had ut- 
tered something very outrageous, and curtly told me I * might 

go to the D , if I liked, and stay with him for good.' Such 

an offensive reply, a few months earlier, would have made me 
shrink into myself; but the New Orleans atmosphere ripens 
one's sense of independence and personal dignity, and I replied 
with something of the spirit that I had admired in Mr. Kennicy 
and Mr. Richardson, and said : — 

' Very well, sir. You may discharge me at once ! ' Of course, 
to a person of Mr. Ellison's sanguinary hair and complexion, 
the answer was sufficient to ensure my furious dismissal on the 
instant. 

Margaret was greatly vexed at my action when she heard 
of it, but consoled me by saying that a few days' liberty would 
do me no harm. My whole time was now placed at her dis- 
posal, and I had reason to know that my humble services were 
a considerable relief and assistance to her at this trying time. 
Meanwhile, poor Mrs. Stanley was becoming steadily worse ; 
and, on Wednesday night, her case was reported to be des- 
perate by the physician. There was no more sleep for any of 
us until the issue should be decided. Near midnight, Margaret, 
with a solemn and ghastly face, beckoned me into the sick 
lady's room. With my heart throbbing painfully, and expect- 
ing I know not what, I entered on tiptoe. I saw a broad bed, 
curtained with white muslin, whereon lay the fragile figure of 
the patient, so frail and delicate that, in my rude health, it 
seemed insolence in me to be near her. It had been easy for 
me to speak of illness when I knew so little of what it meant ; 
but, on regarding its ravages, and observing the operation of 
death, I stood as one petrified. 

Margaret pushed me gently to the bedside, and I saw by 
the dim light how awfully solemn a human face can be when 
in saintly peace. Slowly, I understood how even the most 
timid woman could smilingly welcome Death, and willingly 
yield herself to its cold embrace. I had hitherto a stony belief 
that those who died had only been conquered through a sheer 



AT WORK 113 

want of will on their part ('All men think all men mortal but 
themselves' ^),and that the monster, with its horrors of cold, 
damp earth, and worms, needed only to be defied to be de- 
feated of its prey. While listening at the door, I had wished 
that, in some way, I could transfuse a portion of my fulness 
of spirit into her, that she might have the force to resist the 
foe; for, surely, with a little more courage, she would not 
abandon husband, friends, and admirers, for the still company 
in the Churchyard. But the advance of Death was not Hke that 
of a blustering tyrant. It was imperceptible, and inconceivably 
subtle, beginning with a little ache — like one of many known 
before. Before it had declared its presence, it had narcotized 
the faculties, eased the beats of the heart, lessened the flow of 
blood, weakened the pulse ; it had sent its messenger. Peace, 
before it, to dispel all anxieties and regrets, and to elevate the 
soul with the hope of Heaven ; and then it closed the valves. 

She opened her mild eyes, and spoke words as from afar: 
'Be a good boy. God bless you!' And, while I strained my 
hearing for more, there was an indistinct murmur, the eyes 
opened wide and, became fixed, and a beautiful tranquillity 
settled over the features. How strangely serene! When I 
turned to look into Margaret's eyes, I knew Death had come. 

By a curious coincidence. Captain Stanley, her brother-in- 
law, Arrived from Havana the next day, in a brig. He knew 
nothing of me. There was no reason he should be tender to 
my feelings, and he intimated to me, with the frankness of a 
ship's captain, that he would take charge of everything. Even 
Margaret subsided before this strong man ; and, being very 
miserable, and with a feeling of irretrievable loss, I withdrew, 
after a silent clasp of the hands. 

About three days later I received a letter from Margaret, 
saying that the body had been embalmed, and the casket had 
been put in lead ; and that, according to a telegram received 
from Mr. Stanley, she was going up the river to St. Louis with 
it, by the steamer 'Natchez.' 

For a period, I was too forlorn to heed anything greatly. I 
either stayed at home, reading, or brooding over the last scene 
in Mrs. Stanley's chamber, or I wandered aimlessly about the 
levee, or crossed over to Algiers, where I sat on the hulks, and 

^ Young. 



114 HENRY M. STANLEY 

watched the river flowing, with a feeUng as of a nightmare on 
me. 

My unhappy experiences at Liverpool had not been without 
their lessons of prudence. My only extravagances so far had 
been in the purchase of books ; and, even then, a vague pre- 
sentiment of want had urged me to be careful, and hurry to 
raise a shield against the afflictions of the destitute. Though 
at Hberty, there was no fear that I should abuse it. 

By and by, the cloud lifted from my mind ; and I set about 
seeking for work. Fortune, however, was not so kind this 
time. The Mr. Stanleys of the world are not numerous. After 
two weeks' diligent search, there was not a vacancy to be 
found. Then I lowered my expectations, and sought for work 
of any kind. I descended to odd jobs, such as the sawing 
of wood, and building wood-piles for private families. The 
quality of the work mattered little. 

One day there came a mate to our boarding-house, who told 
me that his captain was ill, and required an attendant. I 
ofi^ered myself, and was accepted. 

The vessel was the * Dido,' a full-sized brig. The captain 
suffered from a bilious fever, aggravated by dysentery, from 
drinking Mississippi water, it was thought. He was haggard, 
and yellow as saffron. I received my instructions from the 
doctor, and committed them to paper to prevent mistakes. 

My duties were light and agreeable. During the remission 
of fever, the captain proved to be a kindly and pious soul; 
and his long grey beard gave him a patriarchal appearance, 
and harmonized with his patient temper. For three weeks 
we had an anxious time over him, but, during the fourth, he 
showed signs of mending, and took the air on the poop. He 
became quite communicative with me, and had extracted 
from me mostly all that was worth relating of my short history. 

At the end of a month I was relieved from my duties ; and 
as I had no desire to resume sea-life, even with so good a man, 
I was paid off most handsomely, with a small sum as a ' token 
of regard.' As I was about to depart, he said some words 
which, uttered with all solemnity, were impressive. 'Don't 
be down-hearted at this break in the beginning of your life. 
If you will only have patience, and continue in well-doing, 
your future will be better than you dream of. You have un- 



AT WORK 115 

common faculties, and I feel certain that, barring accidents, 
you will some day be a rich man. If I were you, I would seek 
your friend at St. Louis, and what you cannot find in this city, 
you may find in that. You deserve something better than to be 
doing odd jobs. Good-bye, and take an old man's best wishes.' 

The old captain's words were better than his gold, for they 
gave me a healthful stimulus. His gold was not to be despised, 
but his advice inspired me with hope, and I lifted my head, 
and fancied I saw clearer and further. All men must pass 
through the bondage of necessity before they emerge into life 
and liberty. The bondage to one's parents and guardians is 
succeeded by bondage to one's employers. 

On the very next day I took a passage for St. Louis, by the 
steamer 'Tuscarora'; and, by the end of November, 1859, ■"■ 
reached that busy city. The voyage had proved to me won- 
derfully educative. The grand pictures of enterprise, activity, 
and growing cities presented by the river shores were likely 
to remain with me forever. The successive revelations of 
scenery and human life under many aspects impressed me with 
the extent of the world. Mental exclamations of 'What a 
river!' 'What a multitude of steamers!' 'What towns, and 
what a people!' greeted each new phase. The intensity of 
everything also surprised me, from the resistless and deep 
river, the driving force within the rushing boats, the gallop- 
ing drays along the levees, to the hurried pace of everybody 
ashore. On our own steamer my nerves tingled incessantly with 
the sound of the fast-whirling wheels, the energy of the mates, 
and the clamour of the hands. A feverish desire to join in the 
bustle burned in my veins. 

On inquiring at the Planters' Hotel, I extracted from the 
hotel clerk the news that Mr. Stanley had descended to New 
Orleans on business a week before! For about ten days I 
hunted for work along the levee, and up and down Broadway, 
and the principal streets, but without success; and, at last, 
with finances reduced to a very low ebb, the river, like a 
magnet, drew me towards it. I was by this time shrunk into 
a small compass, even to my own perception. Self-deprecia- 
tion could scarcely have become lower. 

Wearied and disheartened, I sat down near a number of flat- 
boats and barges, several of which were loading, or loaded, 



ii6 HENRY M. STANLEY 

with timber, boards, and staves ; and the talk of the men, — 
rough-bearded fellows, — about me, was of oak, hickory, pine 
shingles, scantling, and lumber ; and I heard the now familiar 
names of Cairo, Memphis, and New Orleans. At the last 
word, my attention was aroused, and I discovered that one 
of the flat-boats was just about to descend the river to that 
port. Its crew were seated on the lumber, yarning light- 
heartedly; and their apparent indifference to care was most 
attractive to an outcast. I stole nearer to them, found out the 
boss, and, after a while, offered to work my passage down 
the river. Something in me must have excited his rough 
sympathy, for he was much kinder than might have been 
expected from his rough exterior. I had long since learned 
that the ordinary American was a curious compound of 
gentleman and navvy. His garb and speech might be rough, 
his face and hands soiled, beard and hair unkempt, but the 
bearing was sure to be free, natural, and grand, and his senti- 
ments becoming ; the sense of manly dignity was never absent, 
and his manners corresponded with his situation. My services 
were accepted, not without receiving a hint that loafing could 
not be tolerated aboard a flat-boat. Being the youngest on 
board, I was to be a general helper, assist the cook, and fly 
about where wanted. But what a joy to the workless is occu- 
pation ! Independence may be a desirable thing, but the brief 
taste I had had of it had, by this, completely sickened me. 
We cast off at day-break, and committed our huge un- 
wieldy boat to the current of the Mississippi, using our 
sweeps occasionally to keep her in the middle. For the most 
part it seemed to me a lazy life. The physical labours were 
almost nil, though, now and then, all hands were called to 
exert their full strength, and the shouting and swearing were 
terrific. When the excitement was passed, we subsided into 
quietude, smoking, sleeping, and yarning. A rude galley had 
been set up temporarily for the cook's convenience, and a 
sail was stretched over the middle of the boat as a shelter from 
the sun and rain. There were eleven of us altogether, includ- 
ing myself. My promiscuous duties kept me pretty busy. I 
had to peel potatoes, stir mush, carry water, wash tin pans, 
and scour the plates, and on occasions lend my strength at 
pulling one of the tremendously long oars. 



AT WORK 117 

No special incident occurred during the long and tedious 
voyage. Once we narrowly escaped being run down by the 
'Empress' steamer, and we had a lively time of it, the angry 
men relieving themselves freely of threats and oaths. Steam- 
ers passed us every day. Sometimes a pair of them raced 
madly side by side, or along opposite banks, while their 
furnaces, fed by pitch-pine, discharged rolling volumes of 
thick smoke, which betrayed, for hours after they had dis- 
appeared from view, the course they had taken. The water 
would splash up the sides of our boat, and the yellow river 
would part into alarming gulfs on either hand. At large 
towns, such as Cairo, Memphis, Vicksburg, and Natchez, we 
made fast to the shore ; and, while the caterer of the mess took 
me with him to make his purchases of fresh provisions, the 
crew sought congenial haunts by the river-side for a mild dis- 
sipation. By the end of the month, our voyage terminated at 
some stave and lumber-yards between Carrolltown and New 
Orleans. 

On the whole, the flat-boatmen had been singularly decent 
in their behaviour. Their coarseness was not disproportionate 
to their circumstances, or what might be expected from wage- 
earners of their class; but what impressed me most was the 
vast amount of good feeling they exhibited. There had been 
a few exciting tussles, and some sharp exchanges of bellicose 
talk between the principals, but their bitterness vanished in 
a short time, while, towards myself, they were more like pro- 
tectors than employers. Nevertheless, a few painful truths 
had been forced on my notice; I had also gained valuable 
experience of the humours of rivers. The fluvial moods had 
considerably interested me. The play of currents, eddies, and 
whirlpools afforded inexhaustible matter for observation. 
The varying aspects of the stream in calm and storm, when 
deep or shallow, in the neighbourhood of snags, sandbars, and 
spits, reflecting sunshine or leaden sky, were instructive, and 
the veteran flat-boatmen were not averse to satisfying my 
inquisitiveness. Being naturally studious and reflective, I 
carried away with me far more than I could rehearse of what 
was of practical value ; but, boy-like, I relegated my impres- 
sions to memory, where, in process of time, they could be 
solidified into knowledge. 



CHAPTER V 
I FIND A FATHER 

AFTER tying up, I was at liberty to renovate my person. 
My shore-clothes restored me to the semblance of 
my former self, and, with many a protest of good-will 
from my late companions, I walked towards the city. In a 
few hours I reached St. Charles Street, and, as though wearied 
with its persecution of me, Fortune brought me into the 
presence of Mr. Stanley. His reception of me was so paternal 
that the prodigal son could not have been more delighted. 
My absence from New Orleans had but intensified my affec- 
tion for the only friend I seemed to possess in all America. 
Once out of his presence, I felt as a stranger among strangers ; 
on re-entering it, I became changed outwardly and inwardly. 
Away from him, I was at once shy, silent, morosely severe ; 
with him, I was exuberantly glad, and chatted freely, without 
fear of repulse. Since we had parted, I had met some thou- 
sands, and spoken with a few hundreds ; but no one had kin- 
dled in me the least spark of personal interest. It may, then, 
be understood how my greeting expressed my sense of his pre- 
eminence and rarity. 

Between the last sentence and what follows, there should 
be an interval represented by many ******_ j (Jq not 
know how it came about, but I was suddenly fixed immov- 
ably, for a period. Preoccupied with my bursting gladness, 
I had observed nothing but our mutual gratification; and 
then I had poured my tale of woes unchecked, except by an 
expression of sympathy, now and again, from him. But, pre- 
sently, after some commonplaces, his words sounded a deeper 
note, and stirred my innermost being. A peculiar sensation 
— as though the wind of a strong breathing was flowing down 
my back, and ran up with a refluent motion to the head, 
blowing each hair apart — came over me, and held me spell- 
bound and thrilled to the soul. He was saying, with some 



I FIND A FATHER 119 

emotion, that my future should be his charge I He had been so 
powerfully affected by what Margaret had told him, with all 
the warmth of her Irish nature, of the last scene at the death- 
bed of his wife, that he had been unable to dissociate me from 
his thoughts of her ; he had wondered what I was doing, what 
had become of me, imagined that I was starving, and, know- 
ing how friendless and unsophisticated I was, each conjecture 
had been dismal and pitiful ; and he had resolved, on reach- 
ing New Orleans, to make diligent search for me, and take me 
to himself. While he related his extraordinary intentions, it 
seemed to me as if my spirit was casting an interested regard 
upon my own image, and was glorying in the wonderful trans- 
formation that was taking place. To think that any man 
should be weaving such generous designs upon a person so 
unworthy and insignificant as myself, and plotting a felicitous 
future for me, nursed in contumely and misery, seemed to me 
to be too wonderful for belief ! Then, again, there was a cer- 
tain mysterious coincidence about it which awed me. In my 
earhest dreams and fancies, I had often imagined what kind 
of a boy I should be with a father or mother. What ecstasy 
it would be if my parent came to me, to offer a parent's love, 
as I had enviously seen it bestowed on other children. In 
my secret prayers, something of a wish of this kind had been 
behind the form of words ; and now, as an answer from the 
Invisible, came this astounding revelation of His power ! He 
had cast a little leaven of kindness into the heart of a good 
man. From the very first encounter, it had acted beneficially 
for me • and now it had leavened his whole nature, until it had 
become a fatherly affection, which would shield my youth 
from trial and temptation, and show me the best side of 
human nature ! 

Before I could quite grasp all that this declaration meant 
for me, he had risen, taken me by the hand, and folded me in 
a gentle embrace. My senses seemed to whirl about for a 
few half-minutes: and, finally, I broke down, sobbing from 
extreme emotion. It was the only tender action I had ever 
known, and, what no amount of cruelty could have forced 
from me, tears poured in a torrent under the influence of the 
simple embrace. 

The golden period of my life began from that supreme 



120 HENRY M. STANLEY 

moment! As I glance back at it from the present time, it 
seems more like a dream, as unreal as a vision of the night. 
Compared with these matter-of-fact days, or the ruthless 
past, it was like a masquerade among goodly felicities and 
homely affections, and its happy experiences have been too 
precious and sacred for common chat, though they have 
lain near enough for the fitting occasion, moulded and ready 
for utterance. They have formed my best memories, and fur- 
nished me with an unfading store of reflections, and, prob- 
ably, have had more influence than any other upon my con- 
duct and manners. For, to be lifted out of the depths of 
friendlessness and destitution to a paternal refuge, and made 
the object of care and solicitude so suddenly, at a time, too, 
when I was most impressionable, without an effort on my own 
part, and without an advocate, bordered on the miraculous. 
Predisposed to inward communing, with a strong but secret 
faith in Providence, I regarded it as principally the result of a 
Divine interposition, the course of which was a mystery not 
to be lightly talked of, but to be remembered for its signifi- 
cance. 

After a restful night, and when breakfast had been de- 
spatched, we adjourned to a room used as an office and sitting 
apartment, and there I was subjected to a sympathetic cross- 
examination. Every incident of my life, even to the fancies 
that had fled across the mind of callow boyhood, was elicited 
with the assistance of his searching questions, and then I was, 
as it were, turned completely inside out. Mr. Stanley said 
that what I had told him only bore out the conclusion he had 
long before arrived at concerning me. He had suspected that 
I was an orphan, or one who had been flatly disowned, and a 
waif exposed to every wind of Chance ; and he was glad that 
it had deposited me in his keeping. He expressed amazement 
that helpless children were treated so unfeelingly in England, 
and marvelled that no one cared to claim them. Being a 
childless man, he and his wife had often prayed for the bless- 
ing of offspring, until they were wearied with desiring and 
expecting. Then they had gone to the Faubourg St. Mary, 
and had visited the Infant Asylum, with the view of adopting 
some unclaimed child ; but they had made no choice, from 
over- fastidiousness. It much surprised him that none of my 



I FIND A FATHER 121 

relations had discovered in me what had struck him and 
Speake. Had he searched New Orleans all through, he said, 
he could not have found one who would have shared his views 
respecting me with more sympathy than his friend ; and, had 
Mr. Speake lived, he added, I should have been as good as 
established for life. Mr. Speake had written his estimates of 
my character often, and, in one letter, had predicted that I 
was cut out for a great merchant, who would eventually be 
an honour to the city. Mr. Kitchen, the book-keeper, had 
also professed to be impressed with my qualities ; while young 
Richardson had said I was a prodigy of activity and quick 
grasp of business. 

Then, at some length, he related the circumstances which 
had induced him to take a warmer interest in me. He had 
often thought of the start I had given him by the question, 
' Do you want a boy, sir?' It seemed to voice his own life-long 
wish. But he thought I was too big for his purpose. For the 
sake, however, of the long-desired child, he determined to do 
the best he could for me, and had obtained my engagement 
with his friend Speake. When he had gone home, his wife had 
been much interested in the adventure with me, and had 
often asked how his 'protege' was getting on? When she 
had, finally, seen me, she had said something to him which 
had given a new turn to his thoughts ; but, as I was already 
established, and was likely to succeed, he had ceased thinking 
about it. On Margaret's arrival at St. Louis with his wife's 
remains, she had been so eloquent in all the details of what 
had occurred, that he inwardly resolved that his first object 
on reaching the city should be to seek me and undertake what 
God had pointed out to him ; namely, to educate me for the 
business of life, and be to me what my father should have 
been. 'The long and the short of it is,' said he, 'as you are 
wholly unclaimed, without a parent, relation, or sponsor, I 
promise to take you for my son, and fit you for a mercantile 
career; and, in future, you are to hear my name, *^ Henry 
Stanley.''' Having said which, he rose, and, dipping his hands 
in a basin of water, he made the sign of the cross on my fore- 
head, and went seriously through the formula of baptism, end- 
ing with a brief exhortation to bear my new name worthily. 

In answer, as it might seem, to the least shade of doubt on 



122 HENRY M. STANLEY 

my face, which he thought he observed, he gave me a brief 
summary of his own Hfe, from which I learned that he had 
not always been a merchant. He told me that he had been 
educated for the ministry, and had been ordained, and for 
two years had preached in various places between Nashville 
and Savannah ; but, finally, becoming lukewarm, he had lost 
his original enthusiasm for his profession, and had turned his 
attention to commerce. Intimacy with men of business, and 
social life, had led him by degrees to consider himself unfitted 
for a caUing which seemed to confine his natural activities; 
but, though he had lost the desire to expound the Christian 
faith from the pulpit, he had not lost his principles. The 
greater gains of commerce had seemed to him to be more 
attractive than the work of persuading men and women to 
be devout. After one or two unsuccessful essays as a store- 
keeper, he had finally adopted a commission business, and 
had succeeded in several profitable ventures. He thought 
that, in a few years, he would return to the store business, 
and settle in 'one of the back-country places' for which he had 
a great hankering ; but, at present, he could not make up his 
mind to terminate his city connections. Much else he related 
to me, for it was a day of revelations ; but to me, personally, 
it mattered little — it was quite sufficient that he was he, 
my first, best friend, my benefactor, my father! 

Only the close student of the previous pages could com- 
pass my feelings at finding the one secret wish of my heart 
gratified so unexpectedly. To have an unbreathed, unformed 
wish plucked out of the silence, and fashioned into a fact as 
real as though my dead father had been restored to life and 
claimed me, was a marvel so great that I seemed to be divided 
into two individuals — one strenuously denying that such a 
thing could be, and the other arraying all the proofs of the 
fact. It was even more of a wonder than that Dick the boy 
should be transformed into Alice the girl ! But when hour after 
hour passed, and each brought its substantial evidence of the 
change, the disturbed faculties gradually returned to their 
normal level, though now more susceptible to happiness than 
when existence was one series of mortifications. 

As we walked the streets together, many a citizen must 
have guessed by my glowing face and shining eyes that I was 



I FIND A FATHER 123 

brimful of joy. I began to see a new beauty in everything. 
The men seemed pleasanter, the women more gracious, the 
atmosphere more balmy! It was only by severe suppression 
that I was able to restrain myself from immoderate behaviour, 
and breaking out into hysteric and unseemly ebullience. A 
gush of animal enjoyment in life, from this date, would some- 
times overtake me, and send me through the streets at the rate 
of a professional pedestrian. I would open my mouth and 
drink the air, with deep disdain for all physical weakness. I 
had to restrain the electrical vitality, lest the mad humour 
for leaping over a dray or cart might awaken the suspicion 
of the policeman. On such days, and during such fits, it was 
indeed joy to be alive, — 'but to be young was very Heaven.' 
Most of the day was spent in equipping me for the new 
position I was to assume. I was sumptuously furnished with 
stylish suits, new linen, collars, flannels, low-quarter shoes, 
and kip ^ boots : toilet articles to which I was an utter stranger, 
such as tooth- and nail-brushes, and long white shirts, re- 
sembling girls' frocks, for night-dresses. It had never entered 
my head, before, that teeth should be brushed, or that a nail- 
brush was indispensable, or that a night-dress contributed to 
health and comfort! When we returned to Mr. Stanley's 
boarding-house, we had a pleasant time in the arrangement 
of the piles of new garments and accessories, and in practising 
the first lessons in the art of personal decoration. In Wales 
the inhabitants considered it unbecoming in one who aspired 
to manliness to ape the finicky niceties of women, and to be too 
regardful of one's personal appearance; and had "they heard 
my new father descant so learnedly on the uses of tooth- and 
nail-brushes, I feel sure they would have turned away with 
grimaces and shrugs of dissatisfaction. What would stern 
Aunt Mary have said, had she viewed this store of clothing 
and linen that was destined for the use of a boy whom, atone 
time, she had seriously meditated indenturing to a cobbler? 
But, previous to the assumption of my new habiliments, I 
was conducted to a long bath, set in a frame of dark wood, 
and, while looking at it, and wondering at its splendour, I 
heard so many virtues ascribed to its daily use that I con- 
tracted quite a love for it, and vowed to myself that since it 

^ A special kind of leather. 



124 HENRY M. STANLEY 

appeared to be a panacea for so many ills, all that scented 
soap and scrubbing could effect would be gladly tested by me. 

I steeped myself that afternoon, as though I would wash 
out the stains ugly poverty and misery had impressed upon 
my person since infancy; and, when I emerged out of the 
bath, my self-esteem was as great as befitted the name and 
character I was hereafter to assume. But there was much to 
improve inwardly as well as outwardly. The odium attached 
to the old name, and its dolorous history, as it affected my 
sense of it, could not be removed by water, but by diligent 
application to a moral renovation, and making use of the new 
life, with the serious intent to hold the highest ideal I knew 
of, as my exemplar. To aid me in my endeavours, my 
new father was gentleness itself. At first, he made no great 
demand on me ; but our intercourse was permitted to grow 
to that familiar intimacy which inspired perfect confidence. 
There was no fear that I could ever be contemptuous or dis- 
respectful ; but, had he not allowed a certain time for familiar- 
ising me with his presence and position towards me, I might 
not have been able to overcome a natural timidity which 
would have ill-suited our connection. When I had learned to 
touch him without warning, and yet receive a genial welcome, 
laugh in his presence unchecked, and even comb his beard 
with my fingers, then I came completely out of my shell ; and, 
after that, development was rapid. 

' Boys should be seen, and not heard,' had been so frequently 
uttered before me that I had grown abashed at the sound of 
an adult's -^oice. The rule was now agreeably reversed. I 
was encouraged to speak upon every occasion, and to utter 
my opinions regardless of age and sex. No incident occurred, 
and no subject was mentioned, that I was not invited to say 
what I thought of it. 

Apart from commercial and cognate details, I think my 
ripening understanding was made more manifest in anything 
relating to human intercourse and human nature, owing, 
probably, to the greater efforts made by my father to assist me 
in recovering lost ground. Boys bred up at home pick up, in- 
stinctively, the ways and manners prevailing there. I had 
had no home, and therefore I was singularly deficient in the 
little graces of home life. Unconsciously to myself, from the 



I FIND A FATHER ' 125 

moment I had stepped out of the bath-room in my new gar- 
ments, I began that elementary education which was to render 
me fit to be seen by the side of a respectable man. I had to lose 
the fear of men and women, to know how to face them without 
bashfulness or awkwardness, to commune with them without 
slavish deference, to bear myself without restraint, and to 
carry myself with the freedom which I saw in others; in a 
word, I had to learn the art of assimilating the manner, feeling, 
and expression of those around me. Being attentive and in- 
telligent, acute of hearing, quick of eye-sight, and with a good 
memory, I had gained immensely in my father's estimation, 
and he was, to me, a sufficient judge. 

Our wanderings from city to city, steamer to steamer, and 
store to store, which the business of my father necessitated, I 
do not propose to dwell upon ; in fact, it would be impossible 
to contain within a volume all that I remember of this, and 
subsequent periods. I am more concerned with the personal 
element, the cardinal incidents, and the tracing of my growth 
to maturity. Besides, the banks of the Mississippi and its 
lower tributaries have little to recommend them to a youngster 
after the first expressive Oh ! of admiration. The planters' 
mansions, the settlements, and cities, are mainly of uniform 
colour and style of architecture. When we have seen one 
mansion, settlement, or city, we seem to have seen all. One 
river-bank is like the other. The houses are either of wood 
with a verandah, and painted, or of red brick; there is a 
church spire here, and, there, a mass of buildings ; but pre- 
sently, after a second view, there is as little of lasting interest 
as in the monotonous shores of the great river. I only record 
such incidents as affected me, and such as clearly stand out 
conspicuously in the retrospect, which have been not only a 
delight to memory, but which I am incapable of forgetting. 

During nearly two years, we travelled several times between 
New Orleans, St. Louis, Cincinnati, and Louisville ; but most 
of our time was spent on the lower Mississippi tributaries, and 
on the shores of the Washita, Saline, and Arkansas Rivers, 
as the more profitable commissions were gained in dealings 
with country merchants between Harrisonburg and Arka- 
delphia, and between Napoleon and Little Rock. From these 
business tours I acquired a better geographical knowledge 



126 HENRY M. STANLEY 

than any amount of school-teaching would have given me; 
and at one time I was profound in the statistics relating to 
population, commerce, and navigation of the Southern and 
South- Western States. Just as Macaulay was said to be re- 
markable for being able to know a book from beginning to end 
by merely turning over its pages, I was considered a prodigy 
by my father and his intimate friends for the way names and 
faces clung to my memory. I could tell the name of every 
steamer we had passed, the characteristics of her structure, 
and every type of man we met. A thing viewed, or a subject 
discussed likely to be useful, became impressed indelibly on 
the mind. Probably this mental acquisitiveness was stimu- 
lated by the idea that it formed the equipment of a merchant, 
which I believed it was my ultimate destiny to be ; and that 
every living man should be a living gazetteer, and possess 
facts and figures at his fingers' ends. Meantime, my memory 
was frequently of great use to my father as an auxiliary to his 
memorandum-book of shipments, purchases, and sales. Once 
having seen the page, I could repeat its record with confidence ; 
and I was often rewarded by his admiring exclamation, ' Well, 
I never heard the like! It is perfectly astonishing how you 
remember details,' etc. But, though eyes and ears and techni- 
cal memory were well exercised, it was some time before judge- 
ment was formed. Understanding was slow. It took long for 
me to perceive wherein lay the superiority of one sugar over 
another, or why one grade of flour fetched a higher price than 
another, or wherein Bourbon whiskey was superior to rye, and 
to distinguish the varying merits of coffees, teas, etc. What 
a man said, or how he looked, his dress, appearance, and so on, 
were ineffaceable; but the unwritten, or untold, regarding 
him was a blank to me; and when I heard comments from 
bystanders upon the nature of some person, I used to wonder 
how they formed their opinions. However, the effect of these 
criticisms upon men and their manners was to inspire me with 
a desire to penetrate beneath, and to school myself in com- 
paring different people. I had abundance of opportunities, in 
the multitudes we met in the crowded steamers, and the many 
towns we visited ; but that which would have given the key 
to the mystery was wanting, viz., personal intercourse. In 
the absence of direct conversation and dealings with people, 



I FIND A FATHER 127 

it was difficult to discover the nature of a spirit lurking under 
a fair outside. 

When we left New Orleans, at the end of 1859, we had 
brought with us a portmanteau packed with choice literature, 
and I was given to understand that the histories of Rome, 
Greece, and America, poetry and drama, were especially for 
my use, and that I was to pursue my studies as diligently as 
at a school. The practice of travel enabled my father to dis- 
pose himself comfortably for the indulgence of reading, within 
a very short time after reaching his cabin. He acted as one 
who had only changed his room, and was only concerned with 
his own business. With such a man, a river-voyage was no 
impediment to instruction. He set me an example of appli- 
cation to my book, which, added to my own love of study, 
enabled me to cultivate indifference to what was passing 
outside of our cabin. Our travelling library was constantly 
replenished at the large cities, with essays, memoirs, biogra- 
phies, and general literature ; but novels and romances were 
rigidly excluded. 

He first taught me how a book should be read aloud, and, in 
a few seconds, had corrected a sing-song intonation which was 
annoying to him. He said that one could almost tell whether 
a reader understood his author by the tone of his delivery; 
and, taking up a Shakespeare, he illustrated it by reading, 
'Who steals my purse steals trash,' etc.; and the various 
styles he adopted were well calculated to enforce his lesson. 
From the monotone I was unable to see any beauty or point 
in the quotation ; but, when he assumed the tone of the moral- 
ist, the lines certainly set me thinking, and the truth of the 
sentiments appeared so clear that I was never able to forget 
the quotation. 

Sometimes, also, when reading aloud a page of history, I 
would come to a dull paragraph, and my attention would 
flag ; but he was quick to detect this, and would compel me to 
begin again, because he was sure that I knew not what I had 
been reading. I merely note this because during two years we 
read together a large number of books ; and, as I had the benefit 
of his disquisitions and comments on my reading, it will be 
seen that with such a companion these river-voyages con- 
siderably advanced my education, as much so, indeed, as 



128 HENRY M. STANLEY 

though I had been with a tutor. Nor, when we dropped our 
books, and promenaded the deck, was my mind left to stag- 
nate in frivolity. He took advantage of every object worthy 
of notice to impress on me some useful, or moral lesson, — to 
warn me against errors of omission, or commission. 

Whatever it may have been in my personal appearance 
that first attracted him to me, it is certain that the continued 
affection he always showed towards me was secured by my 
zealous efforts always to follow his slightest suggestion. I 
think it would have been difficult to have found a boy in the 
neighbourhood of the Mississippi who observed his parent's 
wishes with a more scrupulous exactitude than I did those of 
my adopted father. As I came to have an entire knowledge of 
him, I knew not which to admire most, the unvarying, affec- 
tionate interest he showed in my personal welfare, or his 
merits as a man and moral guardian. Being of original ideas, 
acute mind, and impressive in speech, the matter of his con- 
versation glued itself into my memory, and stirred me to 
thought. 

I remember well when, one day, he revealed something of 
the method he proposed to follow with me for the perfecting 
of my commercial education, I expressed a doubt as to whether, 
after all his trouble and care, I would ever come up to his 
expectations. I said that as to carrying out plain instructions 
with all good-will there need be no fear — I loved work, and 
the approbation given to fidelity and industry ; but, when I 
contemplated being left to my own judgement, I felt strong 
misgivings. How admirably he interpreted my thoughts, ex- 
plained my doubts ! He infused me with such confidence that, 
had a store been given me there and then, I should have in- 
stantly accepted its management! 'But,' he said, 'I am not 
going to part with you yet. You have much to learn. You 
are a baby in some things yet, because you have been only 
a few months in the world. By the time I have wound up 
matters, you will have learned thousands of little trifles, and 
will be so grounded in solid knowledge that you may safely 
be trusted under another merchant to learn the minutiae of 
business, and so get ready to keep store with me.' 

I suggested to him that I laboured under disadvantages 
such as hampered very few other boys, which would act as a 



I FIND A FATHER 129 

clog on the free exercise of my abilities, and that, even if other 
people refrained from alluding to my Parish breeding, the 
memory of it would always have a depressing effect on me. 
But such thoughts he met with something like angry con- 
tempt. ' I don't know,' said he, 'what the custom of the Welsh 
people may be, but here we regard personal character and 
worth, not pedigree. With us, people are advanced, not for 
what their parentage may have been, but for what they are 
themselves. All whom I meet in broadcloth have risen 
through their own efforts, and not because they were their 
father's children. President Buchanan was made our chief 
magistrate because he was himself, and not because of his 
father, or his ancestors, or because he was poorly or richly 
brought up. We put a premium on the proper exercise of 
every faculty, and guarantee to every man full freedom to 
better himself in any way he chooses, provided always he 
does not exercise it at the expense of the rights of other people. 
It is only those who refuse to avail themselves of their oppor- 
tunities, and shamefully abuse them, that we condemn.' 

At other times, the vehemence of youth would frequently 
betray itself; and, if Ihad not been checked, I should prob- 
ably have developed undue loquacity. Being of sanguine tem- 
per by nature, I was led through gushes of healthy rapture 
into excesses of speech ; but he would turn on me, and gravely 
say that he was not accustomed to carry magnifiers with him ; 
that, owing to his own sense of proportion, my figures gave 
him no true idea of the fact I wished to state, that my free use 
of unnecessary ciphers only created confusion in his mind. 
Sometimes he would assume a comical look of incredulity, 
which brought me to my senses very quickly, and made me 
retract what I had said, and repeat the statement with a more 
sacred regard for accuracy. 'Just so,' he would say ; 'if a thing 
is worth stating at all, it might as well be stated truly. A boy's 
fancy is very warm, I know; but, if once he acquires the 
habit of multiplying his figures, every fact will soon become 
no better than a fable.' 

Being an early riser himself, he insisted on my cultivating 
the habit of rising at dawn, but he also sent me to bed at an 
early hour. He lost no occasion to urge me to apply the 
morning hours to study ; and, really, his anxiety that I should 



130 HENRY M. STANLEY 

snatch the flying minutes appeared to be so great, that I was 
often infected with it as though they were something tangible, 
but so elusive that only a firm grasp would avail. If he saw 
me idly gazing on the shores, he would recall me, to ask if I 
had finished some chapter we had^been discussing, or if I had 
found a different answer to his question than I had last given ; 
and, if he detected an inclination in me to listen to the talk of 
passengers round the bar, he would ask if there were no books 
in the cabin, that I must needs hanker for the conversation 
of idlers. 'All the babble of these topers, if boiled down,' he 
would say, 'would not give a drachm of useful knowledge. 
Greatness never sprang from such fruitless gossip. Those 
men were merely wasting time. From motives of selfishness, 
they, no doubt, would be glad to exchange trivial talk with 
anyone, big or little, who might come near them, but it was 
not to my interest to be in their company.' 

He would put his arm in mine, and lead me away to deliver 
himself of his thoughts on the glory of youth, painting it in 
such bright colours that, before long, I would be seized with a 
new idea of its beauty and value. It appeared to be only a 
brief holiday, which ought to be employed for the strengthen- 
ing of muscles, gathering the flowers of knowledge, and culling 
the riper fruits of wisdom. Youth was, really, only the period 
for gaining strength of bone, to endure the weight put on it 
by manhood, and for acquiring that largeness of mind neces- 
sary to understand the ventures I should hereafter be com- 
pelled to take. To squander it among such fellows as con- 
gregated around bar-rooms and liquor-counters was as foolish 
as to open my veins to let out my life-blood. 'Now is the time 
to prepare for the long voyage you are to take. You have 
seen the ships in the docks taking in their stores before leaving 
for the high sea where nothing can be bought. If the captains 
neglect their duties, the crews will starve. You are in the 
dock to-day; have you everything ready for your voyage? 
Are all your provisions aboard? If not, then, when you have 
hoisted your sails, it will be too late to think of them, and only 
good-luck can save you from misfortune' ; and so on, until, 
through his forcible manner, earnestness, and copious similes, 
I returned to my studies with intense application. 

The sight in the steamer saloons of crowds of excited gam- 



I FIND A FATHER 131 

biers was employed by him in exposition of his views on the 
various ways of acquiring wealth. Those piles of golden 
eagles that glittered on the table of the saloon would enrich 
none of the gamblers permanently. Money obtained by such 
methods always melted away. Wealth was made by industry 
and economy, and not by gambling or speculating. To know 
how to be frugal was the first step towards a fortune, the sec- 
ond was to practice frugality, and the third step was to know 
what to do with the money saved. It was every man's duty 
to put something aside each day, were it only a few cents. 
No man in America was paid such low wages that, if he were 
determined, he could not put away half of them. A man's 
best friend, after God, was himself ; and, if he could not rely 
on himself, he could not rely on anybody else. His first duty 
was to himself, as he was bound to his own wants all his life, 
and must provide for them under every circumstance; if he 
neglected to provide for his own needs, he would always be 
unable to do anything towards the need of others. Then, as 
his custom was, he would proceed to apply these remarks to 
my case. I was to retain in my mind the possibility of being 
again homeless, and friendless, and adrift in the world, the 
world keeping itself to itself, and barring the door against me, 
as it did at Liverpool, New Orleans, and St. Louis, 'The 
poor man is hated, even by his own neighbour; but the rich 
man has many friends,' etc., etc. 

An original method of instruction which he practised with 
me was to present me different circumstances, and ask me 
what I would do. These were generally difficult cases, wherein 
honesty, honour, and right-doing, were involved. No sooner 
had I answered, than he would press me with another view of 
it, wherein it appeared that his view was just as fair as the one 
I had; and he would so perplex me that I would feel quite 
foolish. For instance, a fellow-clerk of mine was secretly dis- 
honest, but was attached to me in friendship. He made free 
with his employer's till, and one day was discovered by me 
alone. What would I do? I would dissuade him. But sup- 
posing, despite his promises to you, he was still continuing to 
abstract small sums: what then? I would accuse him of it, 
and say to him he was a thief. Supposing that, seeing you 
could give no positive proof of his theft, he denied it ? Then 



132 HENRY M. STANLEY 

he would be a liar, too, and there would be a quarrel. And 
what then? That is all. What of the employer? In what 
way? Is he not in question? does he not pay you for looking 
after his interests? But I do look after his interests, in trying 
to prevent the theft. And yet, with all your care of his inter- 
ests, the pilfering goes on, and nobody knows it but you. You 
think, then, that I ought to tell on him, and ruin him? Well, 
when you engaged with your employer, did you not make 
something of a bargain with him, that, for a certain wage, 
you would make his interests your own, and keep him duly 
informed of all that was going on ? 

This is one example of the painstaking way in which he 
would stir up my reasoning powers. When we walked through 
the streets, he would call my attention to the faces of the 
passers-by, and would question me as to what professions 
or trades they belonged to ; and, when I replied that I could 
not guess them, he would tell me that my eyes were the lamps 
to my feet, and the guides to my understanding, and would 
show me that though I might not guess accurately each time, 
in many instances I might arrive at the truth, and that, 
whether wrong or right, the attempt to do so was an exercise 
of the intellect, and would greatly tend, in time, to sharpen 
my wits. 

Moral resistance was a favourite subject with him. He said 
the practice of it gave vigour to the will, which required it as 
much as the muscles. The will required to be strengthened to 
resist unholy desires and low passions, and was one of the best 
allies that conscience could have. Conscience was a good 
friend, and the more frequently I listened to it, the more ready 
it was with its good offices. Conscience was the sense of the 
soul; and, just as the senses of smell and taste guarded my 
body from harm or annoyance, it guarded the spirit from 
evil. It was very tender and alert now, because I was yet at 
school and the influence of the Scriptures was strong in me ; 
but, when neglected, it became dull and insensitive. Those, 
however, who paid heed to it grew to feel the sensation of its 
protective presence, and, upon the least suspicion of evil, it 
strenuously summoned the will to its aid, and thus it was 
that temptations were resisted. 

Whether afloat or ashore, his manners were so open and 



I FIND A FATHER 133 

genial, that one would think he courted acquaintance. Many 
people, led by this, were drawn to accost him; but no man 
knew better than he, how to relieve himself of undesirable 
people, and those who enjoyed his company were singularly 
like himself, in demeanour and conversation. It is from the 
character of his associates that I have obtained my most 
lasting impressions of Americans, and, whenever mentioned, 
these are the figures which always rise first in the mental 
view. 'Punch's' 'Jonathan' I have never had the fortune to 
meet, though one who has travelled through two- thirds of the 
Union could scarcely have failed to meet him, if he were a 
common type. Among his kind, my adopted father was no 
mean figure. I once heard a man speak of him as ' a man of a 
soft heart but a hard head,' which I fancied had a sound of 
depreciation; but, later, I acknowledged it as just. 

It was some six months or so after my adoption that I 
ventured to broach a subject of more than ordinary interest 
to me. In fact, it was my only remaining secret from him. 
It had been often on the tip of my tongue, but I had been re- 
strained from mentioning it through fear of scorn. My ideas 
respecting the Deity I suspected were too peculiar to trust 
them to speech ; and yet, if someone did not enlighten me, 
I should remain long in ignorance of the Divine character. 
True, certain coincidences made me secretly believe that God 
heard me; nevertheless, I burned to know from an authorita- 
tive source whether I was the victim of illusions, or whether 
the Being of my conceptions bore any resemblance to that of 
the learned and old I had met. I imagined God as a personal- 
ity with human features, set in the midst of celestial Glory in 
the Heaven of Heavens ; and, whenever I prayed, it was to Him 
thus framed that I directed my supplications. My father did 
not ridicule this idea as I feared he would, and I was much re- 
lieved to hear him ask how I had come to form such a fancy. 
This was difficult to express in words, but, at last, I managed 
to explain that, probably, it was from the verse which said 
that God had made man after His own image, and because 
clergymen always looked upward when in church. 

I cannot give his own words, but this is the substance of 
my first intelligible lesson on this subject. 

* God is a spirit, as you have often read. A spirit is a thing 



134 HENRY M. STANLEY 

that cannot be seen with human eyes, because it has no figure 
or form. A man consists of body and spirit, or, as we call it, 
soul. The material part of him we can see and feel ; but that 
which animates him, and governs his every thought, is in- 
visible. When a person dies, we say his spirit has fled, or that 
his soul has departed to its Maker. The body is then as in- 
sensible as clay, and will soon corrupt, and become absorbed 
by the earth. 

' We cannot see the air we breathe, nor the strong wind 
which wrecks ships, and blows houses down, yet we cannot 
live without air, and the effects of the winds are not disputed. 
We cannot see the earth move, and yet it is perpetually 
whirling through space. We cannot see that which draws the 
compass-needle to the Pole; yet we trust our ships to its 
guidance. No one saw the cause of that fever which killed 
so many people in New Orleans last summer, but we know it 
was in the air around the city. If you take a pinch of gun- 
powder and examine it, you cannot see the terrible force that 
is in it. So it is with the soul of man. While it is in him, you 
witness his lively emotions, and wonder at his intelligence and 
energy; but, when it has fled, it leaves behind only an inert 
and perishable thing, which must be buried quickly. 

'Well, then, try and imagine the Universe subject to the 
same invisible but potent Intelligence, in the same way that 
man is subject to his. It is impossible for your eyes to see the 
thing itself; but, if you cannot see its effects, you must be 
blind. Day after day, year after year, since the beginning, 
that active and wonderful Intelligence has been keeping light 
and darkness, sun, moon, stars, and earth, each to their course 
in perfect order. Every living being on the earth to-day is a 
witness to its existence. The Intelligence that conceived this 
order and decreed that it should endure, that still sustains it, 
and will outlast every atom of creation, we describe under the 
term of God. It is a short word, but it signifies the Being that 
fills the Universe, and a portion of whom is in you and me. 

' Now, what possible figure can you give of that Being that 
fills so large a space, and is everywhere? The sun is 95 millions 
of miles from us ; imagine 95 millions of miles on the other 
side, yet the circle that would embrace those two points is but 
a small one compared to the whole of space. However far that 



I FIND A FATHER 135 

space extends, the mighty Intelligence governs all. You are 
able to judge for yourself how inconceivable, for the mind 
of man, God is. The Bible says "As the Heavens are higher 
than the earth, so are His ways higher than our ways." God 
is simply indefinable, except as a spirit, but by that small 
fraction of Him which is in us, we are able to communicate 
with Him ; for He so ordered it that we might be exalted the 
more we believe in Him.' 

'But how, then, am I to pray?' I asked, as my Httle mind 
tried to grasp this enormous space, and recoiled, baffled and 
helpless. 'Must I only think, or utter the words, without 
regard to the object or way I direct them?' 

'It seems to me our Saviour Himself has instructed us. He 
said, " But thou, when thou prayest, enter into thy closet, and 
when thou hast shut thy door, pray to thy Father which if 
in secret ; and thy Father, which seeth in secret, shall reward 
thee openly. Your Father knoweth what things ye have need 
of before ye ask Him." 

' Prayer is the expression of a wish of the heart, whether you 
speak aloud, or think it. You are a creature of God, destined 
to perform His design, be it great or little. Out of the limits 
of that design you cannot venture, therefore prayer will not 
avail you. Within the limits you will be wise to pray, in order 
that you may be guided aright. The understanding that He 
has seen fit to give you is equal to what you are destined to do. 
You may do it well, or ill ; but that is left to your choice. How 
wide, or how narrow, those limits are, no one knows but Him- 
self. Your existence may be compared to this: supposing I 
give you a sum of money which I know to be enough to take 
you to New Orleans and return here. If you spend that 
money faithfully and properly, it will suffice to bring you 
comfortably back ; but, if you are foolish and waste it by the 
way, it may not even be enough to take you half-way on your 
journey. That is how I look upon our existence. God has 
furnished us with the necessary senses for the journey of life 
He has intended we should take. If we employ them wisely, 
they will take us safely to our journey's end ; but if, through 
their perversion, we misuse them, it will be our own fault. 
By prayer our spirits communicate with God. We seek that 
wisdom, moral strength, courage, and patience to guide and 



136 HENRY M. STANLEY 

sustain us on the way. The Father, who has all the time ob- 
served us, grants our wish, and the manner of it is past finding 
out; but the effect is like a feeling of restored health, or a 
burst of gladness. It is not necessary to make long or loud 
prayers : the whisper of a child is heard as well as the shout of 
a nation. It is purity of life, and sincerity of heart, that are 
wanted when you approach the Creator to implore His as- 
sistance. We must first render the service due to Him by our 
perfect conduct, before we seek favours from Him.' 

' But what does the verse "So God created him in His own 
image" mean, then?' 

' If you still cling to the idea that the human form is a tiny 
likeness of the Almighty, you are more childish than I be- 
lieved you to be. "Image," in the Bible sense, means simply 
a reflection. In our souls and intelligence we reflect, in a small 
way, God's own mightier spirit and intelligence, just as a 
small pocket mirror reflects the sun and the sky, or your eyes 
reflect the light.* 

Having had my doubts satisfied upon these essential points, 
there was only one thing more which I craved to know, and 
that was in regard to the Scriptures. Were they the words of 
God? If not, what was the Bible? 

According to him, the Bible was the standard of the 
Christian faith, a fountain whence we derived our inspiration 
of piety and goodness, a proof that God interfered in human 
affairs, and a guide to salvation. He read from Timothy, 'All 
scripture is given by inspiration of God, and is profitable for 
doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for instruction in right- 
eousness : that the man of God may be perfect, thoroughly 
furnished unto all good works' ; and from Paul he quoted that 
*it was written for our learning, that we through patience 
and comfort might have hope.' 

' You are not,' said he, * to pay too much attention to the set 
phrases, but to the matter and spirit of what is written, which 
are for the promotion of virtue and happiness. Many of the 
books have been written by men like ourselves, who lived 
between two thousand and four thousand years ago, and they 
used words peculiar to their own time. The mere texts or 
form of the words they used are not the exact words of God, 
but are simply the means of conveying the messages breathed 



I FIND A FATHER 137 

into their understandings ; and, naturally, they delivered them 
in the style of their period, and according to their ability, with 
such simplicity as would enable the common people to com- 
prehend them. If I had to convey to you the proclamation 
of the President of the United States, I should have to write 
it more simply, and in a form that you would understand : so 
these Divine proclamations have been given to us by His 
chosen messengers, more faithfully than literally.* 

The above are a few of the intelligent ideas which I ob- 
tained from my father, and for which I have been as grateful 
as for his unusual goodness in other respects. Probably, many 
a sermon which I had heard had contained them in a diluted 
form ; but they had not been adapted to my understanding, 
and his clear exposition of these subjects was an immense 
relief to me. It was a fortunate thing for me that my foggy 
beliefs, and vague notions, in regard to such high matters, 
could be laid open with all trust and confidence before one so 
qualified and tender, before they became too established in 
my mind, otherwise, as my own intelligence ripened, I might 
have drifted into atheistical indifference. The substance of 
my father's sayings, which I have always remembered, illus- 
trate the bent of his mind. I carefully copied them into a 
beautiful memorandum-book of which he made me a present, 
New Year's Day, i860, and which I was so proud of that, 
during the first few days, I had filled more than half of it 
with the best words of my father. 

It must not be supposed that I was at all times deserving 
of his solicitude, or equal to his expectations. I was one who 
could not always do the right and proper thing, for I was often 
erring and perverse, and at various times must have tried him 
sorely. My temper was quick, which, with an excess of false 
pride, inspired me to the verge of rebellion. A sense of decency 
prevented me from any overt act of defiance, but the spirit 
was not less fierce because I imposed the needful restraint on 
it. Outwardly, I might be tranquil enough, but my smothered 
resentment was as wicked and unjustifiable as if I had openly 
defied him. A choleric disposition on his part would have 
been as a flame to my nature, and the result might have been 
guessed. Happily for me, he was consistently considerate, and 
declined to notice too closely the flushed face, and the angry 



138 HENRY M. STANLEY 

sparkles of the eye, which betokened revolt. An occasional 
blood-letting might perhaps have been beneficial to me ; but 
he had discovered other methods, just as efficacious, for 
reducing me to a state of reason, and never once had recourse 
to threats. My fits of sullenness had been probably provoked 
by an unexpected sharpness of tone, or a denial of some liberty, 
or graver censure than I thought I deserved. Constrained to 
silence by the magnitude and character of my obligations to 
him, I, of course, magnified my grievances; and, the longer 
reconciliation was deferred, the larger these seemed. Before 
this dangerous mood sought vent, some look, a word, some 
secret transmission of sympathy occurred, and, in an instant, 
the evil humour vanished; for weeks afterwards, I would 
endeavour to atone for my churlish behaviour by a contrite 
submissiveness which was capable of undergoing any penance. 

'I do not punish you,' he said, 'because I want you to re- 
member that you are a little man, and the only difference 
between us is that I am an older man. If I were in the habit 
of striking you, you would run away from me, or it would be 
noticeable in you by a slinking gait, or a sly eye, or a sullen 
disposition, or a defiant look, or you would become broken- 
spirited ; all this I do not want you to be — I wish for your 
filial regard, and your respect, which I would not deserve if 
I terrified. Misery and suffering would wreck your temper, 
while kindness and reason will bring out the best qualities of 
your nature; for you, as well as every child that is born, 
possess something that is good, and it is the sunshine of 
tenderness that makes it grow.' 

To one who considers that neither the closest ties of rela- 
tionship, nor the highest claims of aff^ection, are sufficient to 
preserve the rebellious spirit in an angelic temper for a long 
time, this boyish inconsistency and perverseness will be no 
surprise; but I was sensible that it was only owing to his 
patience that it did not receive the condign punishment it 
deserved. This, in itself, was an education ; for I learned, after 
several experiences, not to disturb myself too seriously because 
of a temporary change in his manner or mood, and to accept 
it rather as being due to some cross in business, or physical 
condition, than to any off^ence in me, and so the customary 
cordiality was soon restored. 



I FIND A FATHER 139 

If I could only have made similar allowances earlier, and 
with other persons in later life, I should have had much less 
unhappiness to bewail ; but, in his case, the necessity of doing 
so was impressed on me by my intimate knowledge of his 
fatherliness, and affectionate considerateness, and by the 
constant sense that I owed him unreserved submission. 



CHAPTER VI 
ADRIFT AGAIN 

MY education did not consist solely of his discussions 
upon books, morality, and religion, but it embraced 
a countless variety of topics suggested by our 
travels. By his method of teaching, no passive reception of 
facts was possible, and the stimulus to intellect was given by 
being urged to observe, sift, and examine every article of 
conversation. I absorbed considerable practical knowledge 
during this period. His level-headedness, which I was prone 
to regard at that time as the height of worldly wisdom, and 
his intense realness, aided greatly to clarify my ideas upon 
many things, and was excellently adapted to form a sound 
judgement. He could be as genial as a glad boy on his summer 
holiday, lofty as a preacher, frank as a brother ; but right- 
eously austere, hilariously familiar and jocose, yet sublime, 
according to occasion. The candour and good faith with 
which he spoke, the expansive benevolence, and the large 
amount of sympathy he always showed when I sought his 
advice, or exposed my doubts or fears, were the very qualities 
which were best calculated to ensure my affection, extract my 
shy confidences, and cultivate in me a fearless openness. With 
the exception of those fits of sullen resentment to which I 
was now and then subject, like other human whelps, my life 
with him was one unbroken period of pleasantness, and, so 
far as I required and knew, every condition of a Paradise was 
present, in the unfretting, fair, and healthful existence which 
I led. 

I sometimes imagine that he must have discerned something 
attractive in me, though I myself was unconscious of the 
cause. If I review my appearance at that time, I can find 
nothing to admire. I was naturally shy, silent, short of fig- 
ure, poorly clad, uninteresting, and yet he chose me, from 
the first moment he saw me, to be an object of his charity. I 
endeavoured to be, as the phrase is, good and grateful ; but, 




HENRY M. STANLEY, AT IJ 



ADRIFT AGAIN 141 

as I have reason to remember, I was by no means perfect in 
my endeavours. I think zeal, good-will, docility, were my 
only commendable traits ; but they strike me now as being 
insufficient to account for my undeniable good fortune. 

I can only remember one noticeable incident, outside of the 
common, in connection with this period, and that occurred 
in the middle of i860. We were passengers on the steamer 
'Little Rock,' as she was returning, laden with cotton, down 
the Washita. My father had been paid money due to him for 
goods by a merchant near Fairview, and, through neglect, or 
some other reason, had deferred entrusting it to the purser 
longer than he ought. We, were approaching near Sicily 
Island, when, in the gloom caused by the mountain-pile of 
cotton bales, I observed a man lingering rather suspiciously 
near our cabin-door. At first, I took him for one of the stew- 
ards ; but, on observing him more particularly, his conduct, 
I thought, suggested some nefarious design. My father had 
retired, and, according to custom, I ought to have been abed ; 
but the unusual freight of cotton the boat carried had kept 
me in a state of suppressed excitement. Being light and active, 
I ensconced myself in a dark gap between two tiers of bales, 
and waited patiently. After a little time the man put his ear 
to our door, and presently opened it, and entered our cabin. 
In a few minutes, I heard my father's voice ask, 'Who is 
there?' and, immediately, sounds of a struggle were heard. 
Upon this I bounded in, and found the stranger wrestling with 
my father, and one of the two seemed to be choking. Upon 
seeing me, the intruder turned rapidly towards me. I saw 
the flash as of steel, and something struck me between my arm 
and left breast in my overcoat, and a piece of metal tinkled 
on the floor. Then, with a deep curse, I was flung aside, and 
the man fled along the guards. We instantly raised a cry of 
'Thieves!' which brought crowds of stewards and passengers 
to us, carrying lights. These revealed an open portmanteau, 
with rumpled contents, and the half of a carving-knife blade 
on the floor. On examining my coat it was seen that it had a 
cut as far as the canvas stiffening. All these evidences tended 
to prove that a daring attempt at robbery had been made, 
and, it was suspected, by someone connected with the boat. 
The chief steward mustered the waiters, but they all an- 



142 HENRY M. STANLEY 

swered to their names. He next counted the carving-knives, 
and, according to him, one was missing. The incident caused 
quite a commotion for the time, but the culprit was never 
discovered. 

Beyond this incident, we were singularly free from mishaps, 
and exciting episodes, upon waters that had been the scene 
of many a calamity ; and yet, when I chanced to find myself 
among a group of passengers, I frequently heard terrible 
recitals of experiences at boiler-explosions, and shipwrecks, 
and other events hazardous to life. We had often been fellow- 
passengers with gamblers, some of whom were wrought into 
fury by their losses at cards ; but, whether it was owing to my 
good or evil fortune, I never happened to be present when the 
issue was left to the arbitrament of revolver and bowie-knife, 
as there were plenty of peace-makers always ready to inter- 
fere at the critical moment. 

In September of i860, we met a tall and spruce gentleman, 
of the name of Major Ingham, on board of a steamer bound to 
New Orleans. From what I gathered, he was a South Carolin- 
ian by birth, but, some few years since, had removed to Saline 
County, Arkansas, and had established a plantation not far 
from Warren. My father and he had an abundant amount of 
small-talk together relating to acquaintances and localities, 
which occupied their leisure during the voyage. The Major 
also ingratiated himself with me, and, through his description 
of the forests of pine and oak, and accounts of the wild animals, 
such as catamounts, bears, and deer, in his region, I became 
warmly attached to him. Before reaching New Orleans, we 
had become so intimate that he extended an invitation to me 
to spend a month with him on his Arkansas plantation ; and, 
on referring him to father, I found that he was not so averse 
to the proposal as I feared he would be. The subject was 
deferred for further consideration in the city. 

After about a fortnight's stay at the St. Charles Hotel, my 
father was made anxious by a letter from Havana from his 
brother, and he resolved to go and see him. He then disclosed 
to me that after much mental discussion he had concluded 
that Major Ingham's invitation had assisted greatly in 
smoothing matters. For some time he had been debating as 
to how it would be best to take the first step for establishing 



ADRIFT AGAIN 143 

my future. He had been much struck with the opportunities 
for doing a good business in a country store, at some place 
below Pine Bluff on the Arkansas. There were a large number 
of planters settled there, and a general supply store such as he 
had fancied for their convenience could not fail to be a success. 
Major Ingham's plantation was situated about forty miles 
back of the Arkansas River, and, at Cypress Bend, there was 
a friend of his who, upon a letter from him, would take me 
in to teach me the details of a country merchant's business. 
Here was an opportunity of approaching his project in a 
methodical way without loss of time. His brother's illness at 
Havana had caused some confusion in his affairs, and it was 
necessary for him to cross the Gulf and set things in order. 
Meantime, I had a safe escort to within a day's drive of the 
merchant's store, to which, after being tired of the plantation, 
I was to go to be grounded in the minutiae of a retail store ; and 
in a few months he would have wound up his commission 
business, and be able to avail himself of my local knowledge, 
and proceed to choose the best locality. 

1 saw no objection to any of his arrangements, as they rather 
coincided with my secret ambitions, which had been fostered 
by many previous allusions to such a scheme as had been now 
explained. The suddenness of the parting was somewhat of a 
drawback to the beauty of the project ; but, as accident was the 
cause, and his absence was to be only for a few months, dur- 
ing which we could often correspond, I became inclined, with 
the sanguineness of my nature, to anticipate much enjoyment 
from the novelty of the situation. In my highly-coloured 
fancy, I saw illimitable pine-woods, infested by Indians, and 
by wild-cats, and other savage felines ; and the fact that I 
was about to prepare myself to be a dealer in merchandise, 
preliminary to a permanent establishment, appeared such an 
enchanting prospect that I felt no disposition to peer into 
sober realities. Could we have foreseen, however, that this 
parting, so calmly proposed and so trustfully accepted, was 
to be for ever, both of us would have shrunk from the thought 
of it ; but, unknown to ourselves, we had arrived at the parting 
of the ways, and though we both sincerely hoped the ways 
would meet, we were gHding along steep planes which would 
presently precipitate us into the wide gulf of separation. 



144 HENRY M. STANLEY 

From the moment it was agreed to part for a while, my 
father lost no opportunity to fill me with practical counsel, 
which, had my memory been a knapsack, I could have ex- 
tracted at will for consolation and guidance. Unfortunately, 
for some things my memory was like a sieve : it retained the 
larger rules, but dropped the lesser ones ; it preserved certain 
principles that had an affinity with my nature, but the multi- 
tude of minor ones that he had attempted to graft on my 
nature fell away, one by one. I was to be industrious, orderly, 
honourable, and steady, patient, and obliging. But something 
of these I would naturally have shown under any circum- 
stances ; but contact with real life discovers that these virtues 
are insufficient to keep us serene and immaculate, that the 
spirit of youth requires its sensibilities to be disciplined in 
many ways before it endures with sweetness and patience the 
spurns, and gibes, and mocks, of a rude world. It frequently 
meets conditions wherein nothing will avail but force, of a 
most strenuous kind. 

When the hour came for my father's departure, Major 
Ingham and I accompanied him on board the Havana steamer. 
The last parting occurred in the state-room. At that moment, 
there was a wild fluttering of the heart ; and something like an 
ugly cloud of presentiments, vague shadows of unknown evils 
to come, which started strong doubts of the wisdom of parting, 
came over me all at once. But, as usual, when clear expres- 
sion was most needed, I was too tongue-tied for much speech, 
so many ideas thronged for utterance, and I turned away as 
though stricken dumb. Half an hour later, the steamer was 
only discernible by its trail of smoke. 

After he had gone, the flood-gates were opened, the feelings 
relieved themselves by torrents of words, and my loss and 
loneliness pressed hard upon the senses. Much as I had 
valued him, it needed this time of anguish to reveal fully what 
he had been to me. Then, pang after pang of poignant con- 
trition pierced me through and through. I was dissatisfied 
with the sum of my conduct, with his own professions that I 
had been to him what he had hoped and wished. If he had but 
returned there and then, with the clear light that fell on my 
deficiencies now, how I should have striven to satisfy my own 
exact ideas of what was due to him ! This little absence, with 



ADRIFT AGAIN 145 

its unutterable remorse, had been more efficacious in showing 
me my own inwardness than all his unselfish generosity. 

Nearly five and thirty years have passed since, and I have 
not experienced such wretchedness as I did that night fol- 
lowing his departure. A very little more, and I think it would 
have exceeded the heart's power to bear. My emotions were 
much more distressing than anyone could have judged from 
my appearance. I caught a view of myself in a mirror, and 
my face struck me as exhibiting an astonishing contrast to the 
huge disorder beneath it. For the first time, I understood the 
sharpness of the pang which pierces the soul when a loved one 
lies with folded hands, icy cold, in the sleep of Death. I vexed 
myself with asking. Had my conduct been as perfect as I then 
wished it had been ? Had I failed in aught ? Had I esteemed 
him as he deserved ? Then a craving wish to hear him speak 
but one word of consolation, to utter one word of blessing, 
made me address him as though he might hear ; but no answer 
came, and I experienced a shiver of sadness and wished that I 
could die. 

I have often looked back upon the boy who sat like a stone 
in his father's chair for hours, revolving with fixed eyes and 
unmoved face all that this parting seemed to him to mean. 
Up to a certain point he traced minutely all its details, went 
over every word and little act, and then a great blank wall 
met him, into which he strove and strove again to penetrate, 
and, being baffled, resumed his mental rehearsals. 

Before Major Ingham turned his steps homeward, I received 
a letter from my father duly announcing his arrival at the 
island of Cuba. After describing the passage across the Gulf, 
he went on to say that the more he thought of his plans, the 
more he was inclined to regard the Major's invitation as a 
happy incident in his programme. He had often pondered 
over the best means of starting me in a business for which I 
had a decided bent, and he had been sounding several country 
merchants with a view of giving me a preliminary training, 
but he had constantly deferred a decision in the hope of find- 
ing something that more nearly suited his ideas. Now, how- 
ever, it all seemed clear. He had always fancied the Arkansas 
River, as it had a richer back country than any other, and, 
by means of the steamers and its superior navigation, was 



146 HENRY M. STANLEY 

in direct communication with the cities on the Mississippi. 
There were many professions and trades for which I was fit, 
but he thought that I was more partial to a mercantile career, 
and he was glad of it. He went on to say that I had made a 
wonderful advance during the last year with him, but it was 
on the next few years that my future depended. For tiding 
over them successfully, I had only to hold fast to my princi- 
ples, and be fearless in all manly things ; to persevere and win. 

The letter seemed to be his very self, full of practical sense. 
I felt enriched by its possession. It was a novelty to have a 
letter of my own, sent from such a distance. I read it over 
and over, and found new meanings and greater solace each 
time. The signature attracted my attention with its peculiar 
whip, or flourish, below ; and in my reply, which covered many 
pages, I annexed that whip and ended my first epistle with 
it ; and, ever since, no signature of mine has been complete 
without it. 

Soon after, Major Ingham started on his return home in a 
stern-wheeler bound for the Washita and Saline Rivers. The 
Washita, next to the Arkansas, is the most important river 
which passes through the state of Arkansas — pronounced 
'Arkansaz^;.' The Saline is one of its feeders, and has a navi- 
gable course of only about one hundred and twenty-five miles. 
The Washita in its turn empties into the Red River, and the 
latter into the Mississippi. 

On, or about, the seventh day from New Orleans, the 
steamer entered the Saline, and a few miles above Long View 
we landed on the right bank, and, mounting into a well-worn 
buggy, were driven a few miles inland to Ingham's plantation. 

I am as unaware of the real status of my host among his 
neighbours, as I am of the size of his domain. It then ap- 
peared in my eyes immense, but was mostly a pine forest, in 
the midst of which some few score of black men had cleared 
a large space for planting. The house was of solid pine logs, 
.roughly squared, and but slightly stained by weather, and 
neatly chinked without with plaster, and lined within with 
planed boards, new and unpainted — it had an air of domestic 
comfort. 

My welcome from Mrs. Ingham left nothing to be desired. 
The slaves of the house thronged in her train, and curtsied 



ADRIFT AGAIN 147 

and bobbed, with every token of genuine gladness, to the 
'Massa,' as they called him, and then were good enough to 
include me in their bountiful joy. The supper which had been 
got ready was something of a banquet, for it was to celebrate 
the return of the planter, and was calculated to prove to him 
that, though New Orleans hotels might furnish more variety, 
home, after all, had its attractions in pure, clean, well-cooked 
viands. When the hearth-logs began to crackle, and the fire- 
light danced joyfully on the family circle, I began to feel the 
influence of the charm, and was ready to view my stay in the 
western woods with interest and content. 

But there was one person in the family that caused a 
doubt in my mind, and that was the overseer. He joined us 
after supper, and, almost immediately, I contracted a dislike 
for him. His vulgarity and coarseness revived recollections of 
levee men. His garb was offensive; the pantaloons stuffed 
into his boots, the big hat, the slouch of his carriage, his rough 
boisterousness, were all objectionable, and more than all his 
accents and the manner of his half-patronising familiarity. 
I set him down at once as one of those men who haunt liquor- 
saloons, and are proud to claim acquaintance with bar-tenders. 
Something in me, perhaps my ofhshness, may probably have 
struck him with equal repulsion. Under pretence of weariness 
I sought my bed, for the circle had lost its charm. 

The next day the diet was not so sumptuous. The breakfast 
at seven, the dinner at noon, and the supper at six, consisted 
of pretty much the same kind of dishes, except that there was 
good coffee at the first meal, and plenty of good milk for the 
last. The rest mainly consisted of boiled, or fried, pork and 
beans, and corn scones. The pork had an excess of fat over the 
lean, and was followed by a plate full of mush and molasses. 
I was never very particular as to my diet, but as day after 
day followed, the want of variety caused it to pall on the 
palate. Provided other things had not tended to make me 
critical, I might have gratefully endured it, but what affected 
me principally were the encomiums lavished upon this style 
of cookery by the overseer, who, whether with the view of 
currying favour with Mrs. Ingham, or to exasperate my sup- 
pressed squeamishness, would bawl out, 'I guess you can't 
beat this, howsumdever you crack up New Or-lee-ans. Give 



148 HENRY M. STANLEY 

me a raal western pot-luck, to your darned fixin's in them 
'ar Mississippi towns.' 

With such society and fare, I could not help feeling de- 
pressed, but the tall pine forest, with its mysterious lights and 
shades, had its compensations. As, in process of time, the 
planter intended to extend his clearing and raise more cotton, 
every tree felled assisted in widening the cultivable land. 
On learning this, I asked and obtained permission to cut 
down as many trees as I liked, and, like a ruthless youth with 
latent destructive propensities, I found an extraordinary 
pleasure in laying low with a keen axe the broad pines. I 
welcomed with a savage delight the apparent agony, the 
portentous shiver which ran from root to topmost plume, the 
thunderous fall, and the wild recoil of its neighbours, as it 
rebounded and quivered before it lay its still length. After 
about a score of the pine monarchs had been levelled, the 
negroes at work presented new features of interest. On the 
outskirts of the clearing they were chopping up timber into 
portable or rollable logs, some were 'toting' logs to the blazing 
piles, others rolled them hand over hand to the fires, and each 
gang chanted heartily as it toiled. As they appeared to enjoy 
it, I became infected with their spirit and assisted at the log- 
rolling, or lent a hand at the toting, and championed my side 
against the opposite. I waxed so enthusiastic over this manly 
work, which demanded the exertion of every, ounce of muscle, 
that it is a marvel I did not suffer from the strain ; its fierce 
joy was more to my taste than felling timber by myself. The 
atmosphere, laden with the scent of burning resin, the roaring 
fires, the dance of the lively flames, the excitement of the 
gangs while holding on, with grim resolve and in honour 
bound, to the bearing-spikes, had a real fascination for me. 
For a week, I rose with the darkies at the sound of the over- 
seer's horn, greeted the revivifying sunrise with anticipating 
spirits, sat down to breakfast with a glow which made the 
Major and his wife cheerier, and then strode off to join in the 
war against the pines with a springy pace. 

How long this toil would have retained its sportive aspect for 
me I know not, but I owed it to the overseer that I ceased to 
love it. He was a compound of a Legree ^ and Nelson, with an 

• * The cruel slave-driver, in Uncle Tom's Cabin, comparable with Nelson, bully of 
the ' Windermere.' 



ADRIFT AGAIN 149 

admixture of mannerism peculiarly his own. It was his duty 
to oversee all the gangs, the hoers, wood-cutters, fire-attend- 
ants, log-rollers, and toters. When he approached the gang 
with which I worked, the men became subdued, and stopped 
their innocent chaff and play. He had two favourite songs : 
one was about his 'deah Lucindah,* and the other about the 
'chill winds of December/ which he hummed in a nasal tone 
when within speaking distance of me, while the cracks of his 
'black snake' whip kept time. But, as he sauntered away to 
other parts, I felt he was often restive at my presence, for it 
imposed a certain restraint on his nature. One day, however, 
he was in a worse humour than usual. His face was longer, 
and malice gleamed in his eyes. When he reached us we missed 
the usual tunes. He cried out his commands with a more 
imperious note. A young fellow named Jim was the first 
victim of his ire, and, as he was carrying a heavy log with 
myself and others, he could not answer him so politely as he 
expected. He flicked at his naked shoulders with his whip, 
and the lash, flying unexpectedly near me, caused us both to 
drop our spikes. Unassisted by us, the weight of the log was 
too great for the others, and it fell to the ground crushing the 
foot of one of them. Meantime, furious at the indignity, I had 
engaged him in a wordy contest : hot words, even threats, were 
exchanged, and had it not been for the cries of the wounded 
man who was held fast by the log, we should probably have 
fought. The end of it was, I retired from the field, burning with 
indignation, and disgusted with his abominable brutahty. 

I sought Major Ingham, whom I found reclining his length 
in an easy-chair on the verandah. Not hearing the righteous 
condemnation I had hoped he would express, and surprised 
at his want of feeling, I hotly protested against the cruelty 
of the overseer in attacking a man while all his strength was 
needed to preserve others from peril, and declaimed against 
him for using a whip in proximity to my ears, which made 
the Major smile compassionately at my inexperience in such 
matters. This was too much for my patience, and I then and 
there announced my intention to seek the hospitality of Mr. 
Waring, his neighbour, as I could not be any longer the guest 
of a man who received my complaint so unsympathetically. 
On hearing me say this, Mrs. Ingham came out of the house, 



150 HENRY M. STANLEY 

and expressed so much concern at this sudden rupture of our 
relations that I regretted having been so hasty, and the Major 
tried to explain how planters were compelled to leave field- 
work in charge of their overseer ; but it was too late. Words 
had been uttered which left a blister in the mind, personal 
dignity had been grossly wounded, the Major had not the 
art of salving sores of this kind, and I doggedly clung to my 
first intentions. In another quarter of an hour I had left the 
plantation with a small bundle of letters and papers, and was 
trudging through the woods to Mr. Waring's plantation. 

We have all our sudden likes and dislikes. The first view 
of the comfortable homeliness of Mr. Waring's house gave me 
an impression of family felicity, and when the old man with 
several smiling members of his family came to the door, it 
appeared to me as if it revived a picture I had seen some- 
where in Wales, and all my heart went out to those who were 
in the house. 

Strange to say, in proportion to the period spent at Major 
Ingham's, I possess a more vivid recollection of the night I 
passed at Mr. Waring's, and my thoughts have more often 
reverted to the more ancient house and its snugness and 
pleasant details, than to the other. As I did not mention any- 
thing about the causes of my departure from his neighbour's 
plantation, it was tacitly understood that I was only resting 
for the night, previous to resuming my journey next morning, 
and they did not press me to stay. I begged, however, Mr. 
Waring to do me the favour to send a buggy for my trunk the 
next morning. When it arrived, I repacked it ; and, leaving it 
in his charge, I set off on a tramp across country to the Ar- 
kansas, rejecting many an offer of aid up to the last minute. 

The road wound up and down pine-clothed hills, and, being 
a sandy loam, was dry and tolerably smooth. In the hollows 
I generally found a stream where I quenched my thirst, but 
I remember to have travelled a considerable distance for a 
young pedestrian without meeting any water, and to have 
reflected a little upon what the pains of dying from thirst 
would be like. I rested at a small farm-house that night ; and, 
next morning, at an early hour, was once more footing it 
bravely, more elated, perhaps, than my condition justified. 
I regarded myself as being upon a fine adventure, the narra- 



ADRIFT AGAIN 151 

tion of which would surprise my father. My eyes travelled 
through far-reaching colonnades of tapering pine and flourish- 
ing oak, and for a great part of the time I lost consciousness 
of my circumstances, while my mind was absorbed in interm- 
inable imaginings of impossible discoveries and incidents. 
I saw myself the hero of many a thrilling surprise, and looked 
dreamily through the shades, as though in some places like 
them I would meet the preying beasts whom it would be 
my fortune to strike dead with my staff. But, invariably, on 
being brought to a proper sense of the scenes, and my real 
condition, I recognized how helpless I was against a snarling 
catamount, or couchant panther; I was devoutly thankful 
that Arkansas was so civilised that my courage was in no fear 
of being tested. 

Just at dusk I reached the Arkansas River at Cypress Bend, 
having travelled about forty miles across country, without 
having met a single adventure. 

Mr. Altschul's store, at which I was to devote myself to 
acquiring the arts and details of a country merchant's business, 
was situate about fifty miles S. E. of Little Rock, and half- 
way between Richmond and South Bend. I found no difficulty 
at all in entering the establishment, for I had no sooner in- 
troduced myself than I was accepted by his family with all 
cordiality. The store was, in reality, a country house of busi- 
ness. It stood isolated in a small clearing in the midst of 
Cypress Grove, and was removed from the dwelling-house of 
the family by a quarter of a mile. It was a long one-sto- 
ried building of solid logs, divided into four apartments, three 
of which contained all manner of things that ironmongers, 
gunners, grocers, drapers, stationers, are supposed to sell; 
the fourth room, at the back, was used as an office during 
the day, and as a bedroom at night, by the clerks in charge. 
I commenced my duties in November, i860, being warmly 
hailed as a fellow-clerk by Mr, Cronin, the salesman, and Mr. 
Waldron, the assistant-salesman. 

Cronin was an Irishman from New York, about thirty 
years old ; the assistant was the son of a small planter in the 
vicinity. The first was a character for whom I had a pitying 
fondness. One-half of him was excellent, all brightness, 
cleverness, and sociability, the other half, perhaps the worse, 



152 HENRY M. STANLEY 

was steeped in whiskey. He was my Alphabet of the race of 
topers. I have never been able to be wrathful with his kind, 
they are such miracles of absurdity ! Here and there one may 
meet a malignant, but they are mostly too stupid to be hated. 
Cronin knew his duties thoroughly. He was assiduous, oblig- 
ing, and artful beyond anything with the ladies. He won 
their confidences, divined their preferences, and, with the 
most provoking assurance, laid the identical piece of goods 
they wanted before them, and made them buy it. It was a 
treat to observe the cordial, and yet deferent, air with which 
he listened to their wishes, the deft assistance he gave to their 
expression, his bland assents, the officious haste and zeal he 
exhibited in attending on them, and the ruthless way he 
piled the counters with goods for their inspection. Sometimes 
I suspected he was maliciously making work for me, for, 
being the junior, I had to refold the goods, and restore them 
to their places; but, in justice to him, I must say he nobly 
assisted in the re-arrangement. Cronin was a born salesman, 
and I have never met his equal since. 

The poorer class of women he dazzled by his eloquent com- 
mendations, his elaborate courtesy, and the way he made them 
conceited with their own superior knowledge of what was 
genuine and rich. If the woman was a coloured person, he 
was benevolent and slightly familiar. His small grey eyes 
twinkled with humour, as he whispered friendly advice as to 
the quality of the goods, and besieged her with such atten- 
tions that the poor thing was compelled to buy. 

With the planters, who were of varying moods, Mr. Cronin 
bore himself with such rare good-humour and tact, that one 
found a pleasure in watching the stern lips relax, and the 
benignant look coming to their gloomy eyes. He would go 
forward to meet them, as they stepped across the threshold, 
with hearty abandon and joviality, put fervour into his hand- 
shakes, sincerity into his greeting, and welcome into his every 
act. He anxiously enquired after their healths, condoled with 
them in their fevers, sympathised with them in their troubles 
about their cotton-crops, and soon found excuse to draw them 
to the liquor apartment, where he made them taste Mr. 
Altschul's latest importations. 

According to Mr. Cronin, the 'cobwebs' were cleared by the 



ADRIFT AGAIN 153 

preliminary drink, and it enabled both salesman and buyer 
to take a cheerier view of things, and to banish thoughts that 
would impede business. Naturally, the planters cared little 
for cotton-prints or jaconets, though they often carried 
daintily-pencilled commissions from the ladies at home, which 
Mr. Cronin satisfactorily executed at once, on the plea that 
ladies must be served first ; but when these were disposed of, 
— always with reverent regard for the fair sex, — Mr. Cronin 
flung off his tenderness and became the genial salesman again. 
Had the gentleman seen the new Californian saddles, or the 
latest thing in rifles, shot-guns that would kill duck at ninety 
yards? Those who heard him expatiate upon the merits of 
fire-arms wondered at the earnestness he threw into his lan- 
guage, and at the minute knowledge he seemed to possess of 
the properties of each article. Or the subject was saddles. I 
heard with amazement about the comparative excellencies 
of the Californian, English, and cavalry article, and thought 
his remarks ought to be printed. In this way, with regard 
to rifles, I soon got to know all about the merits of the Bal- 
lard, Sharp, Jocelyn rifles, their special mechanisms, trajec- 
tory, penetration, and range. If I alluded to the revolvers, 
his face glowed with a child's rapture as he dilated upon the 
superiority of the Tranter over the Colt, or the old-fashioned 
'pepper-box'; but, when he took up a beautiful Smith and 
Wesson, he became intoxicated with his own bewildering 
fluency, and his gestures were those of an oratorical expert. 
Then some other excuse would be found for adjourning to the 
liquor room, where he continued to hold forth with his charm- 
ing persuasiveness, until he succeeded in effecting a sale of 
something. 

Mr. Cronin was indeed an artist, but Mr. Altschul did not 
appreciate him as his genius deserved. The proprietor laid 
too much stress upon his propensity to drink, which was 
certainly incurable, and too little upon the profits accruing to 
him through his agency. He also suspected him of gross fa- 
miliarities with female slaves, which, in Mr. Altschul's eyes, 
were unpardonable. Therefore, though he was invaluable to 
me as a model salesman, poor Cronin was obliged to leave 
after a while. 

Waldron in a short time found counter-work too irksome 



154 HENRY M. STANLEY 

and frivolous for his nature, and he also left ; then two young 
men, very proud and high-stomached, and not over-genial to 
customers, were engaged instead. 

But by this time I had become sufficiently acquainted with 
the tone of the planter community to be able to do very well, 
with a few instructions from Mr. Altschul. I had learned that 
in the fat cypress lands there was a humanity which was very 
different from that complaisant kind dwelling in cities. It 
had been drawn from many States, especially from the South. 
The Douglasses were from Virginia, the Crawfords from ' Old 
Georgia,' the Joneses and Smiths from Tennessee, the Gorees 
from Alabama. The poorer sort were from the Carolinas, 
Mississippi, Missouri, and Tennessee, the professional men 
and white employers from a wider area — which included 
Europe. Several of the richer men owned domains of from 
six to ten square miles. They lived like princelings, were 
owners of hundreds of slaves over whom they were absolute 
except as to life or limb, and all their environments catered 
to their egotism. Though genially sociable to each other, to 
landless people like myself they conducted themselves as 
though they were under no obligations. Such manners as 
they exhibited were not so much due to neighbourly good- 
feeling as to their dislike of consequences which might result 
from a wanton offishness. When they emerged from their 
respective territories to the common view, their bearing 
seemed to say that they yielded to us every privilege belong- 
ing to free whites, but reserved to themselves the right to 
behave as they deemed fitting to their state, and of airing any 
peculiarity unquestioned, and unremarked by the commonalty. 
They were as exclusive as the proud county families of Wales. 

It may easily be seen, then, what a sight our store presented 
when about a dozen magnates of this kind, fresh from their 
cotton principalities, and armed, cap-a-pie, each in his own 
peculiar dress, assembled in it. In time, of course, I became 
used to it ; and, considering their anxieties, the malarial cli- 
mate, and the irritating * ague-cake,' they behaved well, on the 
whole. Their general attitude was, however, stiff and con- 
strained. Each slightly raised his hat as he came in, and their 
'Sirs' were more formal and punctilious than, as neighbours 
or fellow-citizens, they ought to have been. 



ADRIFT AGAIN 155 

My proud fellow-clerks were disposed to think it was the 
dread of the pistol which made them so guarded in speech and 
action, but I thought that it was the fear of compromising 
the personal dignity by a disgraceful squabble with men un- 
taught in the forms of good society. Arkansas is sometimes 
known as the Bear State, and many of its people at that time 
were singularly bearish and rude. The self -estimate of such 
men was sometimes colossal, and their vanities as sensitive as 
hair-triggers. None of them could boast of the piety of saints, 
but nearly all had been influenced by the religion of their 
mothers — just as much as might enable them to be dis- 
tinguished from barbarians. It is wonderful what trivial 
causes were sufficient to irritate them. A little preoccupation 
in one's own personal affairs, a monosyllabic word, a look of 
doubt, or a hesitating answer, made them flare up hotly. The 
true reason for this excessive sensitiveness was that they had 
lived too much within their own fences, and the taciturnity 
engendered by exclusiveness had affected their habits. How- 
ever amiable they might originally have been, their isolation 
had promoted the growth of egotism and self-importance. 
This is the essence of 'Provincialism,* wherever it is met with, 
in country or in city life. 

Few visited our store who did not bear some sign of the 
pernicious disease which afflicted old and young in the bot- 
tom-lands of the Arkansas. I had not been a week at the store 
before I was delirious from the fever which accompanies ague, 
and, for the first time in my life, was dieted on calomel and 
quinine. The young physician of our neighbourhood, who 
boarded with Mr. Altschul, communicated to me many par- 
ticulars regarding the nature of this plague. In the form 
termed by him 'congestive chills,' he had known many cases 
to terminate fatally within a few hours. Blacks as well as 
whites were subject to it. Nothing availed to prevent an at- 
tack. The most abstemious, temperate, prudent habits no 
more prevented it than selfish indulgence or intemperance. 
So, what with isolation on their wide estates, their life amongst 
obsequious slaves, indigestion, and inflamed livers, their sur- 
roundings were not well adapted to make our wealthy cus- 
tomers very amiable or sociable. 

Though I had a bowing acquaintance with scores, only half- 



156 HENRY M. STANLEY 

a-dozen or so people condescended to hold speech with me. 
The mention of these reminds me that one day one of my 
friends, named Newton Story, and myself were weighed in 
the scales, and while Story, a fine manly fellow, weighed 
one hundred and eighty-five pounds, I was only ninety-five 
pounds, — within three pounds of seven stone. The frequency 
of ague attacks had reduced me to skin and bone. It was a 
strange disease, preceded by a violent shaking, and a con- 
gealed feeling as though the blood was suddenly iced, during 
which I had to be half-smothered in blankets, and surrounded 
by hot-water bottles. After a couple of hours' shivering, a 
hot fit followed, accompanied by delirium, which, about the 
twelfth hour, was relieved by exhausting perspiration. When, 
about six hours later, I became cool and sane, my appetite 
was almost ravenous from quinine and emptiness. For three 
or four days afterwards, unless the fever was tertian, I went 
about my duties as before, when, suddenly, a fit of nausea 
would seize me, and again the violent malady overpowered 
me. Such was my experience of the agues of the Arkansas 
swamp-land; and, during the few months I remained at 
Cypress Bend, I suffered from them three times a month. 

The population of the State in that year (1861) was about 
440,000; and I find, to my astonishment, that now (1895) it 
is over a million and a quarter, of whom only about 10,000 are 
foreign-born. Neither the dreadful ague, which exceeds in 
virulence the African type, nor the Civil War, has been able 
to check the population. What a hope for much-scorned 
Africa there is in these figures ! 

But this is a digression due to my desire to be just to my 
bilious fellow-sufferers in the swamp-land. One of our new 
salesmen was famous as a violinist, and his favourite song and 
tune was about the 'Arkansas Traveller,' who, losing his way 
in one of the sloughy highways through the swamp, disap- 
peared in the mud leaving his hat behind him to indicate the 
spot. Reflective people will see in this story another obstacle 
to social intercourse. 

Every new immigrant soon became Infected with the proud 
and sensitive spirit prevailing in Arkansas. The poor American 
settler, the Irish employee, the German- Jew storekeeper. In a 
brief time grew as liable to bursts of deadly passion, or fits of 



ADRIFT AGAIN 157 

cold-blooded malignity, as the Virginian aristocrat. In New- 
Orleans, and other great cities, the social rule was to give and 
take, to assert an opinion, and hear it contradicted without 
resort to lethal weapons, but, in Arkansas, to refute a state- 
ment was tantamount to giving the lie direct, and was likely 
to be followed by an instant appeal to the revolver or bowie. 
Sometimes, an 'if you said so, then I said so,' staved off the 
bloody arbitrament, but such folk were probably late immi- 
grants and not old citizens. 

It struck even a youth like me as being ridiculous for a 
servile German-Jew pedlar to fancy himself insulted by a 
casual remark from some mean and ill-bred white, and to 
feel it necessary to face the tube of a backwoodsman, when 
he might have ignored him and his rudeness altogether. It 
was hard to understand why he should resent his honour 
being doubted, except from a mistaken sense of his importance, 
for the ill-opinion of the planter community he had trebly 
earned already, by being a trader, a foreigner, and a Jew ; and 
the small portion of regard he aspired to win by an act of dar- 
ing bluff was not worth a thought, least of all the peril of his 
life, or the smart of a wound. With regard to his 'honour,' 
it seemed to bear a different meaning on different banks of a 
river. On the eastern shore of the Mississippi, it meant 
probity in business ; on the western shore, it signified popular 
esteem for the punishment of a traducer, and he who was 
most prompt in killing anyone who made a personal reflection 
obtained most honour, and therefore every pedlar or clerk 
in Arkansas hastened to prove his mettle. 

At South Bend, about nine miles below us, there was a store- 
keeper who prided himself more upon the 'honour' he had 
won as a duellist than upon commercial integrity. It was the 
example of his neighbourhood which had fired this abnormal 
ambition, and, on my arrival at the Arkansas, his clerks had 
begun to imitate him. The neighbouring merchants, envious 
of his fame, essayed the perilous venture; and, at last, Mr. 
Altschul was smitten with the mania. There is no doubt that, 
had his courage been of a more compact quality, he would 
have competed with the man of South Bend for 'honour.* 
He selected, however, the choicest of his stock of Smith and 
Wesson's vest-pocket revolvers, and was lavishly extrava- 



158 HENRY M. STANLEY 

gant with the ammunition. At the outset, he could not resist 
blinking at the flash of his own pea-shooter, but, by dint of 
practice, he succeeded in plugging a big tree at twenty paces. 
Then, in an evil moment, his mounting spirit was inspired to 
turn his pistolette on a motherly old sow which had strayed 
among his cabbages, and he mortally wounded her. The 
owner of the animal was cross old Mr. Hubbard, a small 
planter, who came on an ambling mule, presently, with a 
double-barrel shot-gun, charged with an awful number of 
buck-pellets, to interview Mr. Altschul. When he returned 
home, I inferred, from Hubbard's satisfied smile, that the 
interview had not been unsatisfactory to him. From that 
moment we noticed that Mr. Altschul abandoned pistol 
practice — for, naturally, the pistolette was not a fit weapon 
to cope with a shot-gun. One of my fellow-clerks remarked 
that it was a pity Mr. Hubbard had no excuse for calling upon 
the man at South Bend for damages. 

If the craze for shooting had been communicated to such a 
respectable man as Mr. Altschul, it may be imagined what a 
fascination pistols had for us youths. We had hip-pockets 
made in our trousers, and the Smith and Wesson was re- 
garded as an indispensable adjunct to manhood. Our leisure 
hours were devoted to target-practice, until my proficiency 
was so great that I could sever a pack-thread at twenty 
paces. Theoretically, we were already man-slaughterers, for 
our only object in practice was to be expert in killing some 
imaginary rowdy, or burglar. In our rude world such a person 
might present himself at any moment. The rowdy needed 
only a little liquor to develop himself, and the store, guarded 
only by a boy at night, offered a tempting inducement to a 
burglarious individual. Among our hundred and odd cus- 
tomers there were several who were not over-regardful of our 
susceptibilities ; and as my colleagues were of their own kidney, 
and had an acute sense of their dignity, there was no saying 
when a crisis might arise. Personally, I was not yet wrought 
up to this fine susceptiveness, though, probably, I had as 
quick a spirit as any fire-eater in Arkansas County. What I 
might do if my patience was abused, or how much bullying 
would be required to urge me to adopt the style in vogue, was, 
however, as yet undetermined. Of the code of honour and 



ADRIFT AGAIN 159 

usage I had heard enough, but whenever I supposed myself 
to be the object of rude aggression, the dire extreme made me 
shrink. The contingency was a daily topic, but, when I dwelt 
on the possibility of being involved, I inwardly held that 
liquory ebullience ought not to be noticed. 

Among our customers was a man named Coleman, a large, 
loose-jointed young fellow, who owned a plantation and some 
twenty slaves. At regular intervals he came to make his pur- 
chase of cloth for his slaves, provisions, etc., and always de- 
parted with a bottle of whiskey in each saddle-bag. One day 
he and some chance acquaintance had commenced a bottle of 
Bourbon, and under the influence of the liquor he became ob- 
jectionable, and hinted to one of the salesmen that it was 
'rot-gut,' diluted with swamp-water. At the commencement 
it was taken to be the rough pleasantry of a drunken rustic ; 
but, as Coleman reiterated the charge, the clerk's patience 
was exhausted, and he retorted that swamp- water was whole- 
some for drunkards such as he. After this, one savage retort 
provoked another, and Coleman drew his revolver; but, as 
he aimed it, I crooked his elbow, and the bullet pierced the 
roof. Almost immediately after, the clerk had flung himself 
against his opponent, and we all three came to the floor. Then, 
while I clung to his thumb, to prevent his raising the hammer, 
assistance came from the next store-room ; and the one who 
most efficiently interfered was a strong and stalwart planter, 
named Francis Rush, for he wrenched the weapon from his 
hand. There followed a disagreeable quarter of an hour : both 
Coleman and the clerk were wild to get at each other, but in 
the end we forced a truce. Coleman's saddle-bags were put 
on his horse, and I held his stirrups while he mounted. He 
glared fiercely at me awhile, and then, after a warning that I 
had better avoid meddling with other people's quarrels, he 
rode away. 

Coleman never returned to the store again. Some weeks 
after this event, I was despatched round the neighbourhood 
to collect debts, and his name was on my list. There was an 
ominous silence about his house as I rode up, but, on making 
my way to the negro quarter to make enquiries, I was told in 
a frightened whisper that their master had disappeared into 
parts unknown, after killing Francis Rush. 



i6o HENRY M. STANLEY 

An evening came when the long-expected burglarious ad- 
venture occurred. Night had fallen by the time I returned to 
the store from supper at Mr. Altschul's, but there was a moon- 
light which made the dead timber in the Cypress Grove 
appear spectral. Near the main entrance to the store was a 
candle, which I proceeded to light after entering the building. 
Then, closing and dropping the strong bar across the door, I 
walked down the length of the store towards the office and my 
bedroom. Holding the candle well up, I noticed as I passed 
the fire-place a pile of soot on the hearth-stone. As it had been 
swept clean after the day's business, the sight of it instantly 
suggested a burglar being in the chimney. Without halting, I 
passed on to the office, cast a quick look at the back door and 
windows, and, snatching my little revolver from under the 
pillow, retraced my steps to the fire-place. Pointing the 
weapon up the chimney, I cried out, * Look out, I am about to 
fire. After the word " three" I shall shoot. One ! two ! — 'A 
cloud of soot poured down on my arm, the rumble of a hasty 
scramble was heard, and I fired into the brick to hasten his 
departure. I then flew into the office, set my candle upon a 
chair, opened the back door, and darted out in time to see a 
negro's head and shoulders above the chimney-top. By means 
of threats, and a sufficient demonstration with the fire-arm, he 
was made to descend, and marched to Mr. Altschul's house, 
where he surrendered to the proprietor. Except that he was 
severely bound, his treatment was respectful, for he repre- 
sented over a thousand dollars, and to injure him was to 
injure Dr. Goree, his owner, and one of our most respected 
customers. 

Mr. Altschul was an Israelite and kept open store on Sun- 
day, for the benefit of the negroes around. The clerks, being 
Christians, were, of course, exempted from labour that day; 
but, on one special Sunday, one of our party had volunteered 
to take Mr. Altschul's place at the counter. In the afternoon, 
he was attending a clamouring crowd of about thirty negroes, 
with his counter littered with goods. As I came in, I observed 
that he was not so alertly watchful as he ought to have been, 
with such a number of men, and so many exposed articles, 
I sat down and closely watched, and saw that, each time his 
back was turned, two men abstracted stockings, thread-spools, 



ADRIFT AGAIN i6i 

and ribands, stuffing them into their capacious pockets. After 
considering the best method of compelling restoration, I with- 
drew and called Simon, Mr. Altschul's burly slave, and in- 
structed him how to assist me. 

A few seconds after re-entering the store, the two halves of 
the front door were suddenly flung to, and barred, and a cry 
of 'Thieves' was raised. There was a violent movement 
towards me, but Simon flourished a big knife above his head, 
and swore he would use it, if they did not stand still and be 
searched. Those who were conscious of their innocence sided 
with us ; and through their help we turned out a pretty assort- 
ment of small goods, which the clerk, by referring to his sales- 
book, found had not been sold. 

I went out to shoot turtle-doves one holiday, and aimed at 
one on a branch about thirty feet above the road, and over- 
hanging it. Almost immediately after, old Hubbard, the 
planter, emerged into view from round the corner, in a tearing 
rage, and presented his shot-gun at me. Seeing no one else 
near, and assuming that he was under some great mistake, I 
asked what the matter was, upon which he boldly accused 
me of shooting at him, and he put his hand to his face to show 
the wound. As there was not the slightest trace of even 
a bruise, I laughed at him, as it seemed to me that only an 
overdose of whiskey could account for such a paroxysm of 
passion. 

Since my arrival at Auburn I had received three letters 
from my father from Havana, within a period of about nine 
weeks. Then, month after month of absolute silence followed. 
The last letter had stated that his brother was convalescent, 
and that, in about a month, he intended to return to New 
Orleans, and would then pay me a visit. Until well into March, 
1 86 1, I was in daily expectation of hearing from him, or seeing 
him in person. But we were destined never to meet again. 
He died suddenly in 1861 — I only heard of his death long 
after. In the mean time, wholly unheeded by me, astounding 
national events had occurred. Several of the Southern States 
had openly defied the United States Government. Forts, 
arsenals, and ships of war had been seized by the revolted 
States, and, what was of more importance to me, the forts 
below New Orleans had been taken by the Louisiana troops. 



i62 HENRY M. STANLEY 

These events were known to readers of newspapers in Arkan- 
sas, but the only newspaper taken at the Auburn store was a 
Pine Bluff weekly, which, as I seldom saw it, I never imagined 
would contain any news of personal interest to me. 

It was not until March that I began dimly to comprehend 
that something was transpiring which would involve every 
individual. Dr. Goree, our neighbour planter, happened to 
meet Mr. W. H. Crawford, an ex- Representative of Georgia, 
at our store, and began discussing politics. Their determined 
accents and resolute gestures roused my curiosity, and I heard 
them say that the States of Alabama, Georgia, Louisiana, and 
others, had already formed a separate government, and that 
one called Jeff Davis had been proclaimed President of the 
new government ; and they wondered why Arkansas was so 
slow to join the Confederates, etc., etc. This was news to me, 
and when they unfolded their respective newspapers and read 
extracts from them, it dawned upon me that if I wished to 
post myself upon the grave national affairs, I should have to 
read those stupid sheets which hitherto I had regarded as 
being only fit for merchants and bearded men. I 

Thus stimulated to think that the events of the time 
affected the people of Arkansas County, even youths like 
myself, I began to read the Pine Bluff paper, and to be more 
inquisitive ; and it was not long before I had a vague concep- 
tion that the country was in a terribly disturbed state, and that 
there would be war. Notwithstanding the information gleaned 
from persons who gave themselves little trouble to satisfy a 
strange boy, it was not until young Dan Goree returned from 
Nashville College that I could assimilate properly all that I 
had heard. Young Dan was a boy of about my own age, and 
being the son of such a politician as Dr. Goree, was naturally 
much more advanced in political matters than L He it was 
who, in friendly converse, acted as my Mentor, and gave me 
the first intelligent exposition of how affairs stood between 
the two sections of the Union. It was from him I learned 
that the election of Abe Lincoln, in the November previous, 
had created a hostile feeling in the South, because this man 
had declared himself opposed to slavery ; and as soon as he 
became President, in March, he would do all in his power to 
free all the slaves. Of course, said he, in that event all slave- 



ADRIFT AGAIN 163 

holders would be ruined. His father owned about one hundred 
and twenty slaves, worth from $500 to $1200 a head, and to 
deprive him of property that he had bought with cash was pure 
robbery. That was the reason that all the people of the South 
were rising against the Northern people, and they would 
fight, to the last man. When the State of Arkansas 'seceded,' 
then every man and boy would have to proceed to the war 
and drive those wretched Abolitionists back to their homes, 
which would be an easy task, as one Southerner was better 
than ten of those Northern fellows, many of whom had never 
seen a gun ! Dan thought that the boys of the South, armed 
with whips, would be quite sufficient to lick the thieving 
hounds ! 

I need not pursue the theme, but it was from such a source 
that I obtained my elementary lessons in American Politics. 
From the time when, in December, 1857, I had read some 
leaderette about the Louisiana Legislative Assembly, politics 
had been repulsively dry to me, and newspapers were only 
useful for their shipping and trade details. 

Specially interesting to me, however, was it to know that 
Missouri and its metropolis, St. Louis, would assuredly join 
the South ; though I was saddened to learn that Cincinnati and 
Louisville were enemies. What curious emotions that word 
'enemies' caused in me! People I knew well, with whom I 
had worshipped, boys with whom I had contracted delightful 
friendships at Newport and Covington, to be enemies ! Then 
I wondered how we were to obtain our goods in future. Con- 
signments of arms, medicine, dry-goods, and ironware, had 
come to us from St. Louis, Cincinnati, and even Chicago. 
The conditions of trade would be altogether altered ! 

It was not, however, until I had propounded the question 
as to how the seizure of the Mississippi forts affected people 
who were abroad, and wished to return home, that I under- 
stood how deeply involved I was by this rupture of relations 
between the North and South. I was told that all communi- 
cation was stopped, that ships coming in from sea would be 
turned back, or else, if they were permitted to come in by the 
cruisers outside, would certainly not be permitted to leave; 
that every ship insisting on going to New Orleans would be 
searched, and, if anything likely to assist the enemy was 



i64 HENRY M. STANLEY 

found, she would be detained, and perhaps confiscated ; and 
that, as no vessel was permitted to enter the river, so none 
would have the privilege of leaving. Here was something 
wholly unexpected ! My father was shut out, and I was shut 
in ! He could not come to me, nor could I join him. In some 
mysterious way somebody had built an impassable wall 
round about us, and the South was like a jail, and its inhabit- 
ants had been deprived of the liberty of leaving. From the 
moment that I fully realised this fact, everything bore a dif- 
ferent aspect to what it had before. I was a strange boy in a 
strange land, in the same condition of friendlessness as when 
I fled from the 'Windermere.' I had prepared myself to con- 
vince my father that the valley of the Arkansas was not a fit 
place to live in. My staring bones and hollow eyes should 
speak for me, and we would try the Washita Valley, or ascend 
the Arkansas, towards Little Rock, where the country was 
healthier, but anywhere rather than in such a pestilential 
place as the swamp-land of Arkansas. But my intentions 
had come to naught, my cherished hopes must be abandoned. 
I was stranded effectually, and I had no option but to remain 
with Mr. Altschul. 

It was an evil hour to meditate any design of a personal 
nature, for the sentiment of the period was averse from it. 
The same unperceivable power that had imprisoned me in 
the fever-and-ague region of Arkansas was rapidly becoming 
formidable. Man after man unresistingly succumbed to its 
influence. Even the women and children cried for war. There 
was no Fiery Cross, but the wire flashed the news into every 
country-place and town, and, wherever two met, the talk was 
all about war. Most of the cotton States had already seceded, 
and as our State was their sister in sentiment, habit, and blood, 
Arkansas was bound to join her sisters, and hasten with her 
§ons to the battle-field, to conquer or die. Early in May, 
the State Representatives met at Little Rock, and adopted 
the ordinance of secession ; whereupon the fighting spirit of the 
people rose in frenzy. Heroic sayings, uttered by ancient 
Greek and Roman heroes, were mouthed by every stripling. 
The rich planters forgot their pride and exclusiveness, and 
went out and orated among the common folk. They flourished 
their hats and canes, and cried, 'Give us Liberty, or give us 



ADRIFT AGAIN 165 

Death !' The young men joined hands and shouted, 'Is there 
a man with soul so dead, Who never to himself hath said — 
This is my own, my native land?' 'An honourable death is 
better than a base life,' etc., etc. In the strident tones of 
passion, they said they would welcome a bloody grave rather 
than survive to see the proud foe violating their altars and 
their hearths, and desecrating the sacred soil of the South 
with their unholy fee^. But, inflamed as the men and youths 
were, the warlike fire that burned within their breasts was as 
nothing to the intense heat that glowed within the bosoms of 
the women. No suggestion of compromise was possible in 
their presence. If every man did not hasten to the battle, they 
vowed they would themselves rush out and meet the Yankee 
vandals. In a land where women are worshipped by the men, 
such language made them war-mad. 

Then one day I heard that enlistment was going on. Men 
were actually enrolling themselves as soldiers! A Captain 
Smith, owner of a plantation a few miles above Auburn, was 
raising a Company to be called the 'Dixie Greys.' A Mr. 
Penny Mason, living on a plantation below us, was to be the 
First-lieutenant, and Mr. Lee, nephew of the great General 
Lee, was to be Second-lieutenant. The youth of the neigh- 
bourhood were flocking to them and registering their names. 
Our Doctor, — Weston Jones, — Mr. Newton Story, and the 
brothers Varner, had enlisted. Then the boy Dan Goree pre- 
vailed upon his father to permit him to join the gallant braves. 
Little Rich, of Richmond Store, gave in his name. Henry 
Parker, the boy nephew of one of the richest planters in the 
vicinity, volunteered, until it seemed as if Arkansas County 
was to be emptied of all the youth and men I had known. 

About this time, I received a parcel which I half-suspected, 
as the address was written in a feminine hand, to be a token of 
some lady's regard ; but, on opening it, I discovered it to be a 
chemise and petticoat, such as a negro lady's-maid might 
wear. I hastily hid it from view, and retired to the back 
room, that my burning cheeks might not betray me to some 
onlooker. In the afternoon, Dr. Goree called, and was excess- 
ively cordial and kind. He asked me if I did not intend to 
join the valiant children of Arkansas to fight? and I answered 
'Yes.' 



i66 HENRY M. STANLEY 

At my present age, the whole thing appears to be a very 
laughable affair altogether ; but, at that time, it was far from 
being a laughing matter. He praised my courage, and my 
patriotism, and said I should win undying glory, and then he 
added, in a lower voice, 'We shall see what we can do for you 
when you come back.' 

What did he mean ? Did he suspect my secret love for that 
sweet child who sometimes came shopping with her mother? 
From that confidential promise I believed he did, and was, 
accordingly, ready to go anywhere for her sake. 

About the beginning of July we embarked on the steamer 
'Frederick No trebe.' At various landings, as we ascended the 
river, the volunteers crowded aboard; and the jubilation of 
so many youths was intoxicating. Near Pine Bluff, while 
we were making merry, singing, 'I wish I was in Dixie,' the 
steamer struck a snag which pierced her hull, and we sank 
down until the water was up to the furnace-doors. We re- 
mained fixed for several hours, but, fortunately, the 'Rose 
Douglas' came up, and took us and our baggage safely up 
to Little Rock. 

We were marched to the Arsenal, and, in a short time, 
the Dixie Greys were sworn by Adjutant-General Burgevine 
into the service of the Confederate States of America for 
twelve months. We were served with heavy flint-lock mus- 
kets, knapsacks, and accoutrements, and were attached to the 
6th Arkansas Regiment of Volunteers, Colonel Lyons com- 
manding, and A. T. Hawthorn, Lieutenant-colonel. 

General Burgevine was, in later years. Commander of the 
Mercenaries, in the Imperial Chinese army against the Tai- 
pings, and an ally of General (Chinese) Gordon, at one time. 
Dismissed by the Imperialists, he sought the service of the 
Taipings. Wearied of his new masters, he conceived a project 
of dethroning the Emperor, and reigning in his stead ; he went 
so far as to try and tempt Gordon to be his accomplice ! 




HENRY M. STANLEY, AT 20 



CHAPTER VII 
SOLDIERING 

I AM now about to begin a period lasting about six years, 
which, were it possible, I should gladly like to re-live, 
not with a view of repeating its woes and errors, pains 
and inconsistencies, but of rectifying the mistakes I made. 
So far, I had made none of any importance ; but enlisting in 
the Confederate service, because I received a packet of female 
clothes, was certainly a grave blunder. But who is able to 
withstand his fate or thwart the designs of Providence? It 
may have been time for me, getting close on to eighteen, to 
lose some of the soft illusions of boyhood, and to undergo the 
toughening process in the trail of war. Looking backward 
upon the various incidents of these six years, though they 
appear disjointed enough, I can dimly see a connection, and 
how one incident led to the other, until the curious and some- 
what involved design of my life, and its purpose, was con- 
summated. But this enlistment was, as I conceive it, the first 
of many blunders; and it precipitated me into a veritable 
furnace, from which my mind would have quickly recoiled, 
had I but known what the process of hardening was to be. 
Just as the fine edge of boyish sensitiveness was blunted, 
somewhat, by the daring blasphemy of the 'Windermere' 
officers, so modesty and tenderness were to be shocked, by 
intercourse with men who cast off sweet manners with their 
civilian clothes, and abandoned themselves to the rude style 
of military life. A host of influences were at work sapping 
moral scruples. The busy days, the painful events, the excite- 
ment of the camp, the general irreligiousness, the disregard 
of religious practice, the contempt for piety, the licentious 
humours of the soldiers, the reckless and lavish destruction of 
life, the gluttonous desire to kill, the devices and stratagems 
of war, the weekly preaching in defence of it, the example of 
my elders and superiors, the enthusiasm of beautiful women 
for strife — finally, all that was weak, vain, and unfixed in 



i68 HENRY M. STANLEY 

my ow^ nature, all conspired to make me as indifferent as any 
of my fellows to all sacred duties. 

I had to learn that that which was unlawful to a civilian 
was lawful to the soldier. The 'Thou shalt not' of the Deca- 
logue, was now translated 'Thou shalt.' Thou shalt kill, lie, 
steal, blaspheme, covet, and hate; for, by whatever fine 
names they were disguised, everyone practised these acts, 
from the President down to the private in the rear rank. The 
prohibition to do these things was removed, and indulgence 
in licence and excess was permissible. My only consolation, 
during this curious 'volte-face' in morality, was, that I was 
an instrument in the strong, forceful grip of circumstance, and 
could no more free myself than I could fly. 

Heaven knows if any among the Dixie Greys can look at 
the acts of the war with my eyes. Not having been educated 
as I had been, nor become experienced afterwards in the ways 
of many lands, it is not likely any of them would. Many of 
them went to the war as passionate patriots in the spirit of 
religious duty, blessed by their families ; others with an appe- 
tite for glory, the desire of applause, a fondness for military 
excitement, or because they were infected with the general 
craze, or to avoid tedious toil, or from the wildness of youth, 
etc. It was passionate patriotism that was the rule, and 
brought to its standard all sorts and conditions of men; 
and it was this burning passion that governed all conduct, 
and moulded public life to its will. 

Now all men who knew our brigade commander will con- 
cede that, whatever virtues he may have had, ambition was 
his distinguishing characteristic. It was commonly said that 
he was a man of genius, could command a Department, or be 
a first-class Minister of War ; but, from what I can recollect 
of him, he aimed at the highest office in the land, and was 
sufficiently unscrupulous to establish himself as a dictator. 
Colonel Lyons was purely and simply a soldier : Lieutenant- 
colonel A. T. Hawthorn was too vain of military distinction, 
and the trappings of official rank, to have stooped to be a 
patriot in the ranks ; but Captain S. G. Smith was a patriot 
of the purest dye, of the most patrician appearance, one of 
the finest and noblest types of men I have ever met : a man 
of stubborn honour and high principles, brave, and invariably 



SOLDIERING 169 

gentle in demeanour and address. Our First-lieutenant was a 
Mr. Penny Mason, a Virginian, bright, soldierly, zealous, and 
able, and connected with the oldest families of his State. He 
rose, as his military merits deserved, to the rank of Adjutant- 
general. Our Second-lieutenant was a nephew of General Lee, 
who in the soldiers' parlance was a 'good fellow.' He also 
became distinguished during the war. Our Third-lieutenant 
was a 'dandy,' who took immense trouble with his appearance, 
and was always as neat as a military tailor and the laundry 
could make him. Our Orderly-sergeant was an old soldier of 
the name of Armstrong, an honest and worthy fellow, who 
did his duty with more good-humour and good-nature than 
would have been expected under the circumstances. 

The privates were, many of them, young men of fortune, 
sons, or close relations, of rich Arkansas planters of independ- 
ent means ; others were of more moderate estate, overseers of 
plantations, small cotton-growers, professional men, clerks, a 
few merchants, and a rustic lout or two. As compared with 
many others, the company was a choice one, the leaven of 
gentlehood was strong, and served to make it rather more 
select than the average. Still, we were only a tenth of a regi- 
ment, and, though a fifth of the regiment might be self-re- 
specting, gentlemanly fellows, daily contact in camp with a 
majority of rough and untaught soldiers is apt to be pervert- 
ing in time. 

We were not subjected to the indignity of being stripped and 
examined like cattle, but were accepted into the military 
service upon our own assurance of being in fit condition ; and, 
afterbeing sworn in, we shed our civil costumes, and donned 
the light grey uniforms. Having been duly organized, we next 
formed ourselves into messes. My mess consisted of Jim 
Armstrong, the Orderly-sergeant ; Newton Story, the Colour- 
sergeant, who had been overseer of Dr. Goree's plantation ; 
Dan Goree, a boy, the son and heir of Dr. Goree ; Tom Malone, 
a genial fellow, but up to every gambling trick, a proficient in 
'High-low-jack,' Euchre, Poker, and Old Sledge, and, when 
angered, given to deliver himself in very energetic language ; 
old Slate, knowing as any, anecdotive, and pleasant. Tomas- 
son, a boisterous fellow, who acted frequently like a bull in a 
china-shop, was admitted by Armstrong to the mess because 



170 HENRY M. STANLEY 

he was a neighbour, and full of jests. A Sibley tent, an im- 
provement on the bell-tent, contained the whole of us com- 
fortably. 

Dan Goree had brought his slave Mose, a faithful blackie, 
to wait upon him. The mess annexed his services as cook and 
tin-washer, and, in return, treated Dan with high considera- 
tion. Mose was remarkable for a cow-like propensity to kick 
backward, if we but pointed our fingers at him. Armstrong 
contributed to the general comfort a stylish canteen and the 
favour of his company ; and the rest of us gave our services 
and means to make the social circle as pleasant as possible, 
which, as we were 'bright, smart, and alive,' meant a great 
deal ; for, if there were any fowls, butter, milk, honey, or other 
accessories to diet in our neighbourhood, they were sure to be 
obtained by some indefatigable member of the mess. I was 
too 'green' in the forager's arts, at the beginning of the cam- 
paign, but I was apt ; and, with such ancient campaigners as 
Armstrong and old Slate, — both of whom had been in the 
Mexican War of 1847, — I did not lack tuition by suggestion. 

When clothed in our uniforms, each of us presented a some- 
what attenuated appearance ; we seemed to have lost in dig- 
nity, but gained in height. As I looked at Newton Story's 
form, I could scarcely believe my eyes. Instead of the noble 
portliness for which he had been distinguished, he was lean as 
a shorn sheep. Sleek Dan Goree was girlishly slender, while I 
had a waspish waist, which measured a trifle more than two 
hands. Dr. Jones was like a tall, over-grown lad ; and, as for 
the Varner brothers, they were elegant to the verge of effem- 
inacy. 

With military clothes, we instinctively assumed the military 
pose : our heads rose stiff and erect above our shoulders, our 
chests bulged out, and our shoulder-blades were drawn in. 
We found ourselves cunningly peeping from the corners of 
our eyes, to observe if any admired our martial style. The 
Little Rock 'gals,' crowding about the Arsenal grounds, were 
largely responsible for the impressive airs we took. The pret- 
tiest among them drew into her circle a score or more of heroic 
admirers, whose looks pictured their admiration; and how 
envied were they who obtained a smile from the fair! And 
how they strutted, with their eyeballs humid with love ! If, 



SOLDIERING 171 

when we promenaded the streets, with equal step and arm-in- 
arm, we detected the presence of cambric frocks on a 'stoep,* 
or in some classic porch, we became as ridiculous as peacocks 
from excess of vanity. Indeed, in those early days, we were all 
over-troubled with patriotic thrills, sanguinary ardour, and 
bursts of ' bulliness.' The fever of military enthusiasm was at 
its height, in man, woman, and child ; and we, who were to 
represent them in the war, received far more adulation than 
was good for us. The popular praise turned our young heads 
giddy, and anyone who doubted that we were the sanest, 
bravest, and most gallant boys in the world, would have been 
in personal danger ! Unlike the Spartans, there was no mod- 
esty in the estimate of our own valour. After a few drills, we 
could not even go to draw rations without the practice of the 
martial step, and crying out 'Guide centre,' or 'Right wheel,' 
or some other order we had learned. At our messes, we talked 
of tactics, and discussed Beauregard's and Lee's merits, 
glorified Southern chivalry, and depreciated the Yankees, 
became fluent in the jargon of patriotism, and vehement in 
our hatred of the enemy. Few of us had ever smelled the fumes 
of battle, but that did not deter us from vividly painting 
scenes of carnage when the blood rolled in torrents, and the 
favoured 'Dixie Greys' led the van to victory. 

Our martial souls were duly primed for the field by every 
adjunct of military system. The fife, drum, and trumpet 
sounded many times a day. A fine brass band thrilled us, 
morning and evening, with stirring music. The drum and 
fife preceded us to the drilling-ground, and inspired us to 
sprightliness, campward. We burnished brass buttons, arms, 
and accoutrements, until they shone like new gold. We 
bought long Colt's revolvers, and long-bladed bowie-knives ; 
we had our images taken on tin-types in our war-paint and 
most ferocious aspects, revolver in one hand, bowie-knife in 
the other, and a most portentous scowl between the eyebrows. 
We sharpened the points of our bayonets, and gave a razor- 
*edge to our bowies, that the extermination we intended should 
be sudden and complete. 

After a few weeks we made our last march through the 
Arkansan capital. The steamer was at the river-side, to take 
us across. The streets were gay with flags and ladies' dresses. 



172 HENRY M. STANLEY 

The people shouted, and we, raw and unthinking, responded 
with cheers. We raised the song, ' We '11 live and die for Dixie,' 
and the emotional girls waved their handkerchiefs and wept. 
What an imposing column we made! The regiment was in 
full strength. The facets of light on our shining muskets and 
bayonets were blinding. Banners of regiments and companies 
rustled and waved to the breeze. We strode down to the 
levee with 'eyes front,' after the manner of Romans when 
reviewed by their tribunes ! 

Once across the river, that August day, we strapped our 
knapsacks, slung our haversacks and water-canteens, and felt 
more like veterans. All being ready, our physically-noble 
Colonel Hawthorn, prancing on his charger, drew his bright 
sword, and, after he had given us a sufficiently stern glance, 
rode to the head of the regiment ; the brass band struck up a 
lively tune, and we swung gaily in column of four along the 
pike, towards the interior. Our officers and orderly walked 
parallel with us. The August sun was extremely hot, the pike 
was hard, dry, and dusty. At first, the officers' voices had a 
peremptory and sharp ring in them as they sang out, * Keep 
step, there! Left shoulder, shift arms! Dress up!' but after 
a while, as the heat began to force a copious perspiration, and 
the limy dust from the metalled highway parched our throats, 
they sobered down, and allowed us to march at ease. 

Within an hour the sweat had darkly stained our grey coats 
about the arm-pits and shoulders, and it rolled in streams 
down our limbs into our boots, where, mingling with the dust 
and minute gravel, it formed a gritty mud which distressed 
our feet. Our shoulders ached with the growing weight and 
hardness of the muskets, our trousers galled us sorely, the 
straps and belts became painfully constrictive, and impeded 
respiration, but, through fear of shame, we endured all, with- 
out complaint. At the end of the hour we were halted for five 
minutes' rest, and then resumed the march. 

Like all new recruits, we carried a number of things that 
veterans dispense with : for instance, keepsakes, and personal 
treasures ; mine were a daguerreotype of my adopted father, 
and a lock of his grey hair, — very trivial and valueless to 
others, but my own peculiar treasures, carried in my knap- 
sack to be looked at every Sunday morning when we smart- 



SOLDIERING 173 

ened up. With these, toilet articles, soap, changes of under- 
clothing, camp-shoes, etc., besides extra uniform, and blankets, 
made up our luggage, which, with heavy musket, bayonet- 
accoutrements, and canteen of water, weighed about sixty 
pounds, and more, in some cases. For growing and lean 
youths this was a tremendous weight ; and, during the second 
hour, the sense of oppression and soreness rapidly increased ; 
but, excepting more frequent changes of the musket from 
shoulder to shoulder, we bated nothing of our resolve to 
endure. 

After the second halt we were sensibly lamer. The gravel 
created blisters, and the warrri mud acted like a poultice on the 
feet. The military erectness gave way to a weary droop, and 
we leaned forward more. We were painfully scalded, rest- 
lessly shifted our weapons, and tried scores of little experi- 
ments, hustled our cartridge-pouches, inch by inch, then from 
back to front, from right to left ; tugged at our breast-straps, 
eased our belts, drank copious draughts of water ; and still the 
perspiration rolled in a shower down our half-blinded faces, 
and the symptoms of collapse became more and more pro- 
nounced. 

Finally, the acutest point of endurance was reached, and 
nature revolted. Our feet were blistered, our agonies were 
unendurable, and, despite official warning and menace, we 
hopped to the road-side, whipped off our boots to relieve our 
burning feet ; after a little rest, we rose and limped after the 
company. But the column had stretched out to a tremendous 
length with its long wagon-train, and to overtake our friends 
seemed hopeless. As we limped along, the still untired soldiers 
mocked and jeered at us, and this was very hard to endure. 
But, by and by, the stragglers became more numerous ; the 
starch appeared to be taken out of the strongest, and, the 
longer the march continued, the greater was the multitude of 
the weary, who crawled painfully in the rear of the column. 

Had the Little Rock ladies witnessed our arrival at camp 
late at night, we should have been shamed for ever. But, 
fortunately, they knew nothing of this ; and blessing the night 
which hid our roasted faces and sorry appearance, we had no 
sooner reached the precincts of the camp than we embraced 
the ground, pains and aches darting through every tortured 



174 HENRY M. STANLEY 

limb, feet blistered and bleeding, our backs scorched, and our 
shoulders inflamed. No bed that I had ever rested on gave 
me a tithe of the pleasure afforded me now by the cold, damp 
pasture-land. 

The next day was a halt. Many of us were more fitted for 
hospital at day-break than for marching, but, after a bathe in 
the stream, a change of linen, and salving our wounds, we were 
in better mood. Then Armstrong, the old orderly, suggested 
that we should shed our knapsacks of all 'rubbish,' and as- 
sisted his friends by his advice as to what was indispensable 
and what was superfluous. The camp-fires consumed what we 
had rejected, and, when we noted the lightened weight of our 
knapsacks after this ruthless ransackment, we felt fitter for the 
march than on the day we departed from the Arkansas River. 

Our surroundings at camp were novel for inexperienced 
youths. We were tented along the road-side, having taken 
down the fences of a field, and encroached on farm-lands, 
without asking permission. The rails were also freely used 
by us as firewood. A town of canvas had risen as if by magic, 
with broad, short streets, between the company tents ; and in 
the rear were located the wagons carrying provisions, am- 
munition, and extra equipments. 

In a few days we were camped in the neighbourhood of 
Searcy, about sixty miles from Little Rock. The aspect of 
the country was lovely, but there was something fatal to 
young recruits in its atmosphere. Within two weeks an epi- 
demic carried off about fifty, and quite as many more lay in 
hospital. Whether it was the usual camp typhus, or malarious 
fever, aggravated by fatigue and wretched rations, I was too 
young to know or to concern myself about ; but, in the third 
week, it seemed to threaten us all, and I remember how the 
soldiers resorted to the prayer-meetings in each company, and 
how solemn they were at service on Sunday. The pressure of 
an impending calamity lay heavy upon us all while in camp, 
but, as soon as we left it, we recovered our spirits. 

It was at this camp I acquired the art of diving. At swim- 
ming I was a proficient a long time before, but the acquisition 
of this last accomplishment soon enabled me to astonish my 
comrades by the distance I could traverse under water. 

The brigade of General Hindman was at last complete in its 



SOLDIERING 175 

organisation, and consisted of four regiments, some cavalry, 
and a battery of artillery. About the middle of September we 
moved across the State towards Hickman on the Mississippi, 
crossing the Little Red, White, Big Black, and St. Francis 
Rivers, by the way. Once across the Mississippi, we marched 
up the river, and, in the beginning of November, halted at 
what was then called 'the Gibraltar of the Mississippi.' 

On the 7th of November, we witnessed our first battle, 
— that of Belmont, — in which, however, we were not parti- 
cipants. We were held in readiness on the high bluffs of 
Columbus, from whence we had a commanding view of the 
elbow of land nearly opposite, whereon the battle took place. 
The metaphor ' Gibraltar' might, with good reason, be applied 
to Columbus, for General Polk had made notable exertions to 
make it formidable. About one hundred and forty cannon, of 
large and small calibre, had been planted on the edge of the 
steep and tall bluffs opposite Belmont, to prevent the descent 
of the river by the enemy. 

A fleet of vessels was discerned descending, a few miles 
above Belmont, and two gun-boats saucily bore down and 
engaged our batteries. The big guns, some of them 128- 
pound Parrot t-rifled, replied with such a storm of shell that 
they were soon obliged to retreat again ; but we novices were 
delighted to hear the sound of so many cannon. We received 
a few shots in return, but they were too harmless to do more 
than add to the charm of excitement. The battle began at 
between ten and eleven in the morning, the sky then being 
bright, and the day gloriously sunny ; and it continued until 
near sunset. Except by the volleying thick haze which settled 
over the woods, we could not guess what was occurring. The 
results were, on our side, under General Polk, 641 killed, 
wounded, and missing. On the Federal side, under General 
Grant, the loss was 610 killed, wounded, and missing. To add 
to our casualties, a 128-pound rifled-gun burst at our bat- 
tery, by which seven of the gunners were killed, and General 
Polk and many of his officers were wounded. 

A youth requires to be educated in many ways before his 
manhood is developed. We have seen what a process the 
physical training is, by the brief description of the first day's 
march. It takes some time to bring the body to a suitable 



176 HENRY M. STANLEY 

state for ungrudging acceptance of the hard conditions of 
campaigning, so that it can find comfort on a pike, or in a 
graveyard, with a stone for a pillow, and ease on clods, despite 
drenching rain and chilling dew. Then the stomach has to 
get accustomed to the soldier's diet of fried, or raw, bacon and 
horse-beans. The nerves have to be inured to bear, without 
shrinking, the repeated shocks and alarms of the camp. The 
spirit has to be taught how to subject itself to the spurns and 
contumely of superior and senior, without show of resentment ; 
and the mind must endure the blunting and deadening of- its 
sensibilities by the hot iron of experience. 

During the long march from Little Rock to Columbus we 
became somewhat seasoned, and campaigning grew less and 
less unpleasant. Our ordinary march was now more in the 
nature of an agreeable relief from monotonous camp-duties. 
We were not so captious and ready to take offence as at first, 
and some things that were once most disagreeable were now 
regarded as diversions. 

I now fully accepted it as a rule that a soldier must submit 
to military law ; but many, like myself, had lost a great deal of 
that early enthusiasm for a soldier's life by the time we had 
reached Columbus. It had struck us when at picket-duty 
alone, in the dark, that we had been great fools to place our- 
selves voluntarily in a position whence we could not retreat 
without forfeit of life; and that, by a monosyllable, we had 
made our comrades our possible enemies upon a single breach 
of our oath. We had condemned ourselves to a servitude more 
slavish than that of the black plantation-hands, about whose 
condition North and South had declared war to the death. 
We could not be sold, but our liberties and lives were at the 
disposal of a Congress about which I, at least, knew nothing, 
except that, somewhere, it had assembled to make such laws 
as it pleased. Neither to Captain Smith, nor to Lieutenant 
Mason, nor even to my messmate Armstrong, could I speak 
with freedom. Any of them might strike me, and I should 
have to submit. They could make me march where they 
pleased, stand sentry throughout the night, do fatigue-duty 
until I dropped, load my back as they would a mule, ride me 
on a rail, make a target of me if I took a quiet nap at my post ; 
and there was no possible way out of it. 



SOLDIERING 177 

" To say the truth, I had not even a desire to shirk the duties 
I had undertaken. I was quite, prepared and ready to do all 
that was required ; for I loved the South because I loved my 
Southern friends, and had absorbed their spirit into every 
pore. Nevertheless, when far removed from the hubbub of 
camp, at my isolated post, my reason could not be prevented 
from taking a cynical view of my folly in devoting myself to 
be food for powder, when I might have been free as a bird, to 
the extent of my means. And if, among my vague fancies, I 
had thought that, by gallantry, I might win promotion such as 
would be some compensation for the sacrifice of my liberty, 
that idea had been exploded as soon as I had measured myself 
by hundreds of cleverer, abler, and braver men, and saw that 
they, even, had no chance of anything but to fill a nameless 
grave. The poetry of the military profession had departed 
under the stress of many pains, the wear and tear, and the 
certainty that soldiering was to consist of commonplace 
marches, and squalid camp-life. 

The punishment inflicted on such as were remiss in their 
duties during the march had opened my eyes to the conse- 
quences of any misdemeanour, or an untimely ebullience of 
youthful spirits. I had seen unfortunate culprits horsed on 
triangular fence-rails, and jerked up by vicious bearers, to 
increase their pains; others, straddled ignominiously on poles; 
or fettered with ball and chain ; or subjected to head-shaving; 
or tied up with the painful buck and gag ; or hoisted up by the 
thumbs; while no one was free of fatigue-duty, or exempt 
from fagging to someone or other, the livelong day. 

Those who were innocent of all breaches of ' good order and 
discipline' had reason to lament having sacrificed their inde- 
pendence, for our brigade-commander, and regimental officers, 
were eaten up with military zeal, and were resolved upon 
training us to the perfection of soldierly efficiency, and, like 
Bully Waters of the ' Windermere,' seemed to think that it was 
incumbent on them to get the full value of our keep and pay 
out of us. They clung to the antiquated notion that soldiers 
were appointed as much to drudge for their personal service 
as for the purposes of war. Besides the morning and evening 
musters, the nine o'clock dress-parade, the drill from that hour 
to noon, the cleaning of arms and accoutrements, the frequent 



178 HENRY M. STANLEY 

interruptions of rest by the 'long roll' heard in the dead of 
night, the guard-duty, or picket, we had to cook our provi- 
sions, put up the officers' tents, make their beds soft as straw 
and hay or grass could make them, collect fuel for their 
fires, dig ditches around their tents, and fag for them in num- 
berless ways. These made a mighty list of harassments, 
which, on account of the miserably hard fare, and insufficient 
preparation of it, weighed on our spirits like lead, tended to 
diminish our number by disease, and sent hundreds to the 
hospital. 

The Dixie Greys, for instance, consisted mostly of young 
men and lads who were as ignorant of the art of converting 
their ration of raw beef and salt pork, field beans, and flour, 
into digestible food, as they were of laundry work ; yet they 
were daily served with rations, which they might eat raw, or 
treat as they liked. Of course, they learnt how to cook in time ; 
but, meanwhile, they made sorry messes of it, and suffered 
accordingly. Those with good constitutions survived their 
apprenticeship, and youth, open air, and exercise, enabled them 
to bear it a long time; but when, with improper food, the 
elements chilled and heated us with abrupt change, and arbi- 
trary officialism employed its wits to keep us perpetually on 
the move, it becomes evident, now, why only the hardiest were 
enabled to bear the drudgery and vexation imposed upon 
them, and why disease slew more than two- thirds of the whole 
number of soldiers who perished during the war. 

The fault of the American generalship was that it devoted 
itself solely to strategy and fighting, and providing commis- 
sariat supplies; but seldom, or never, to the kindly science 
of health-preservation. The officers knew how to keep their 
horses in good condition ; but I do not remember ever to have 
seen an officer who examined the state of our messes, of 
stooped to show that, though he was our military superior, he 
could take a friendly and neighbourly interest in our well-being, 
and that his rank had not estranged his sympathies. If, at 
the muster, a soldier was ill, he was put on the sick-list ; but 
it never seems to have struck any officer, from General Lee 
down to the Third-lieutenant of an infantry company, that it 
might be possible to reduce the number of invalids by paying 
attention to the soldiers' joys and comforts. The raw provi- 



SOLDIERING 179 

sions were excellent and abundant, and they only needed to 
be properly prepared to have made us robust and strong. 

Just as the regimental physician and his assistants were 
requisite for the cure of illness, a regimental 'chef,' as superior 
of the company's cooks, would have been useful for the pre- 
vention of it, in fifty per cent of the cases ; but the age was not 
advanced enough to recognise this. 

Although I am apt to assign causes for things in my old 
age, it must not be supposed that I, as a boy, could then know 
much about such matters. I was, fortunately, blessed with the 
power of endurance, and was of so elastic a disposition that I 
could act my part without cavil or criticism. At that time, I 
felt that I had no other business in the world than to eat, 
work, and use my eyes, wits, and powers as a soldier, and to be 
as happy as my circumstances would allow; and I do not 
think I made myself obnoxious to any living soul. Within our 
mess we were not without our disagreements, and I had to 
bear my share of banter from my elders ; but none can say, 
'This was he whom we had sometime in derision, and a 
proverb of reproach. We accounted his life madness, and his 
end to be without honour.' 

The exigencies of war necessitated our removal by train 
from Columbus to Cave City, Kentucky, where we arrived 
about the 25th of November, 1861. We remained in this 
camp until about the middle of February, 1862. The force 
around Bowling Green and Cave City numbered 22,000. Our 
brigade was attached to the Division of General Hardee, 
author of 'Tactics.' During the time we remained there, no 
fighting occurred ; but we made several midnight marches 
towards Green River, and posted ourselves in positions to 
surprise the enemy, expected to come from Munfordville. 

During the winter in this camp I won the approval of the 
mess by an aptitude for lessening the inconveniences under 
which we suffered in mid-winter, and my success in foraging. 
Instead of a fire under the Sibley tripod, which, besides en- 
dangering our feet and bedding, smoked us, I suggested that 
we should sink a hearth and build a fire-place with a flue and 
regular chimney of mud outside; and, with the help of the 
veteran Slate, the work was executed so well that our tent 
was always warm and clear of smoke, while the edges of the 



i8o HENRY M. STANLEY 

hearth made comfortable seats by which we could toast our 
feet, and recline back luxuriously. Tomasson, our bawling 
mess-mate, was not worth his salt at any work except legiti- 
mate soldiering. He seemed to consider that, by dusting 
around like a clown at a pantomime, and giving us the honour 
of his company, he did enough for the general welfare. Arm- 
strong and Story were sergeants ; and, of course, their Mighti- 
nesses were exempt from doing more than stooping to praise ! 
Dan, being in the leading-strings of Story, was not permitted 
to roam ; therefore, when it came to a consideration of ways 
and means for improving our diet, it devolved upon Malone, 
Slate, and myself to exert ourselves for the mess. 

The long halt at Cave City served to initiate me into the 
mysteries of foraging, which, in army-vocabulary, meant not 
only to steal from the enemy, but to exploit Secessionist 
sympathisers, and obtain for love and money some trifles to 
make life more enjoyable. Malone and Slate were very suc- 
cessful and clever in all sorts of ruses. I was envious of the 
praises given to them, and resolved to outdo them. What 
rackings of the brain I suffered, as I mentally revolved the 
methods to adopt! General Sidney Johnston gave not so 
much time to the study of inflicting defeat on the Yankees, as 
I gave to win glory from the mess by my exploits. Half-a- 
dozen times in December it had been my turn to forage, but, 
somehow, my return was not greeted with any rapturous ap- 
plause. However, by Christmas Eve I had a fair knowledge of 
the country and the temper of the people about, and my mind 
was stored with information regarding Secessionists, Union- 
ists, and lanes, and farms, to a radius of five miles around the 
camp. Just on the edge of my circle, there lay one fat farm 
towards Green River, the owner of which was a Yank, and his 
neighbour told me he corresponded with the enemy. For a 
foot-soldier, the distance was somewhat far, but for a horse- 
man, it was nothing. 

The day before Christmas, through the assistance of a man 
named Tate, I had the promise of a mule; and having ob- 
tained the countersign from Armstrong, I set out, as soon as 
it was dark, to levy a contribution on the Unionist farmer. 
It was about ten o'clock by the time I reached the place. Tying 
my mule in the angle of a fence, I climbed over, and explored 



SOLDIERING i8i 

the grounds. In crossing a field, I came to half-a-dozen low 
mounds, which I was certain contained stores of potatoes, or 
something of the kind. I burrowed into the side of one of 
them with my bayonet, and presently I smelled apples. These 
were even better than potatoes, for they would do splendidly 
for dumplings. I half-filled a sack with them. After burrow- 
ing into two or three others, I came to one which contained the 
winter store of potatoes, and I soon raked out enough to make 
a load. I hurried with my booty to my mule, and secured it 
on the mule. 

Then, thinking that a goose, or even a duck or a fowl 
or two, would make our Christmas dinner complete, I was 
tempted to make a quest for them, anticipating, as I crept 
towards the farm, the glory I should receive from my mess. 
I reached the out-houses with every faculty strained, and I 
soon had the pleasure of wringing the neck of a goose, a duck, 
and two fowls. 

I ought to have had the discretion to retire now, but the 
ambition to extinguish Malone and Slate, to see the grin of 
admiration on Armstrong's face, and Newton Story open his 
eyes, and Tomasson compelled to pay homage to worth, left 
me still dissatisfied; and just then scenting a hog-pen, I 
quietly moved towards it. By the light of a feeble moon I 
worked into the piggies' home, and there, cuddled about the 
hams of their mother, I saw the pinky forms of three or four 
plump shoats. Aye, a tender shoat, roasted brown and crisp, 
would be the crown of a Christmas dinner ! I bounded lightly 
as a lean fox into the sty, snatched a young porkling up by the 
heels, creating a terrifying clamour by the act. We were all 
alarmed, the mother hoarsely grunted, the piggies squealed in 
a frightful chorus, the innocent rent the midnight air with his 
cries ; but, determined not to lose my prize, I scrambled over, 
ended its fears and struggles by one fierce slash, dumped the 
carcase into the sack, and then hastened away. Lights were 
visible in the farm-house, doors slammed, and by a broad 
beam of light I saw a man in the doorway with a gun in his 
hand. A second later a shower of pellets whistled about me, 
fortunately without harm, which sent me tearing madly 
towards my mule. In a few minutes, bathed in perspiration, I 
was astride of my mule, with my sack of dead meat in front of 



182 HENRY M. STANLEY 

me, and potatoes and apples thumping the sides of my animal 
as I rode away towards camp. 

Long before dawn, I made my triumphant appearance in 
front of my tent, and was rewarded by every member of the 
mess with the most grateful acknowledgements. The Christ- 
mas dinner was a splendid success, and over twenty invited 
guests sat down to it, and praises were on every lip; but 
without the apple dumplings and fritters it would not have 
been complete to us youngsters. Secretly, I was persuaded 
that it was as wrong to rob a poor Unionist as a Secessionist ; 
but the word 'foraging/ which, by general consent, was be- 
stowed on such deeds, mollified my scruples. Foragers were 
sent out by the authorities every other day, and even author- 
ised to seize supplies by force ; and, according to the military 
education I was receiving, I did not appear to be so very 
wicked as my conscience was inclined to make me out to be. 

When I set out foraging in the daytime I was amply 
furnished with funds, and sought some fraternal 'Secesh.' 
Towards Green River, beyond the pickets, an old Secessionist 
lady and I became great friends, trusting one another without 
reservation. I would give her ten dollars at a time to invest 
in eggs, butter, and fowls ; and she would trust me with bowls, 
tins, and linen, to take the articles to camp. The old lady was 
wont to bless my 'honest face* and to be emotional, as I told 
her of the sufferings of my fellow- 'Dixies' at camp, out in 
the snow and wintry gale. Her large faith in me, and her good 
heart, made me so scrupulous that I ran many risks to restore 
her property to her. Her features and widowed condition, the 
sight of her dairy utensils, clean, and smelling of laitage, cream, 
and cheese, revived pleasing recollections of kine and their 
night-stalls, and led on to Aunt Mary and her chimney-side ; 
from that moment, I was her most devoted admirer. Through 
her favouritism for me, our mess was often able to lend a 
pound of fresh butter and a dozen eggs to the officers' mess. 

One of the most singular characteristics of my comrades 
was their readiness to take offence at any reflection on their 
veracity or personal honour, and the most certain provocation 
of fury was to give anyone the lie. They could stand the most 
vulgar horse-play, sarcastic badinage, and cutting jokes, with 
good-humour; but. if that unhappy word escaped one in heat, 



SOLDIERING 183 

or playful malice, it acted on their nerves as a red rag is said 
to do on a mad bull. The glory of a native Southerner consists 
in being reputed brave, truth-telling, and reverent towards 
women. On such subjects, no joking was permissible. He who 
ventured to cast a doubt upon either was liable to be called 
upon at an instant to withdraw it ; and, if an angry tone made 
the doubter writhe, and indisposed to submit, there was sure 
to be a scene. To withdraw a word at an imperious command 
was to confess oneself inferior in courage to him who chal- 
lenged ; and, as all prided themselves on being of equal rank, 
and similarly endowed with the best qualities of manhood, I 
never met one who was morally brave enough to confess his 
fault and apologise, unless he was compelled by overwhelming 
odds. 

During that winter I absorbed so many of these ' chivalrous' 
ideas that I was in a fair way of becoming as great a 'fire- 
eater' as any son of the South. Had it not been for Newton 
Story and Armstrong, who knew intuitively when to interpose 
their authority, Tomasson's rudeness, which flared me up 
many a time, would, I am sure, have been followed by deplor- 
able consequences. There was young Dan also ; he was often 
in a wrangling mood, and by his over-insistent glorifications 
of Southern chivalry brought us within a hair's breadth 
of triggers. 

The tedium of camp-life at Cave City was relieved by out- 
breaks of this kind, for, when we were not required to exhibit 
our courage against the common foe, the spirit of mischief 
found it an easy task to influence our susceptiveness when 
discussing such dear and near matters as valour, chastity, 
honour, and chivalry, the four chiefest virtues of the South. 
It is not an easy task to identify myself In the sunken hearth 
of the tent at Cave City, talking grandly upon such themes ; 
but several scenes recur to the mind, and compel me to the 
humiliating confession that it was I. 

This life did not tend to awaken spiritual thoughts, or re- 
ligious observations. When, after a long lapse from piety, I 
strove to correct my erring disposition with the aid of prayer, 
how very faint-hearted I felt ! I shrank from the least allusion 
to any goody-goodiness manifested ; I became shame-faced if 
I was accused of being pious ; the Bible was only opened by 



i84 HENRY M. STANLEY 

stealth ; and I was as ready to deny that I prayed, as Peter 
was to deny Christ. A word or act of my neighbour became 
as perilous to my spiritual feelings as a gust of east wind is to a 
sufferer from Influenza. Every hour brought its obstacle ; but 
I came, by degrees, to realise that, just as one must concentrate 
his reasoning faculties for the solution of a problem, I must, if 
I hoped to win in the great fight, summon every good thought 
to my assistance, and resolutely banish all false pride. 

But these were not my worst faults. Tomasson's mad 
humour was as infectious as Dan's dissertations upon Southern 
chivalry. Indoors he was jestive, amusing, vulgarly-enter- 
taining; outdoors, he made us all join him in uproarious 
laughter. The prank of a mule, the sight of a tall hat, the 
apparition of a black coat, a child, a woman, a duel between 
two cocks, a culprit undergoing penance, it mattered not what, 
tickled his humorous nerve, and instigated him to bawl, and 
yell, and break out into explosions of laughter ; and whether 
we laughed at him, or at that which had caught his fancy, in 
a second we had joined in the yelling, the company became 
smitten with it, then the regiment, and, finally, the army, 
was convulsed in idiotic cachinnations. I really blushed at the 
follies that people like Tomasson often led us into ; but, after 
all, these occasional bursts of jolly imbecility were only a way 
these free-born natures took to express their animal discontent 
and mild melancholy, under the humiliating circumstances of 
that crude period. It was really pathetic, after a mild parox- 
ysm of this kind, to hear them sigh, and turn to each other and 
ask, 'Who would sell a farm to become a soldier?' 

From the day when personal decoration was not expected 
from the private soldiers, and we learned that endurance was 
more esteemed than comeliness, a steady deterioration in our 
appearance took place. We allowed weeks to pass by without 
a bath ; our hair was mown, not cut, making a comb unneces- 
sary ; a bottle of water sufficed for ablution, a pocket-hand- 
kerchief, or the sleeve of our jacket, served for a towel ; a dab 
of bacon-fat was all that was needed for our boots ; our dingy 
grey uniforms required no brushing. Soldiering, as practised 
in time of war, was most demoralising in many ways ; for the 
conflict against hunger, fatigue, cold, and exposure, exhausted 
the energies and strength of each individual. 



SOLDIERING 185 

By February, 1862, we had learned the trade of war toler- 
ably well, and were rich in 'wrinkles'; for no teacher is so 
thorough as necessity. We were no longer harrowed by the 
scarcity of comforts, and the climate, with its fickleness and 
inclemency, we proudly disregarded. Whether it rained, 
sleeted, or snowed, or the keen frost bit through to the marrow, 
mattered as little to us as it did to the military geniuses who 
expected raw soldiers to thrive on this Spartan training. To 
perfect content with our lot we could not hope to attain, so 
long as we retained each our spiritual individualities, and 
remembered what we had enjoyed in times gone-by; but, 
after a course of due seasoning, the worst ills only provoked 
a temporary ill-humour; while our susceptibility to fun so 
sweetened our life that there was scarcely anything in our 
lives but conduced to a laugh and prompted a jest. 

The fall of Forts Henry and Donelson, on the 6th and i6th 
February, 1862, required our instant evacuation of Cave City 
and Bowling Green, to Nashville, lest we should be cut off by 
the Union advance up the Cumberland and Tennessee Rivers^ 
behind us. We were therefore obliged to march through the 
snow to the rear of Bowling Green, where we were packed into 
the cars and speedily taken to Nashville, arriving there on the 
20th February. Thence, after a couple of days, we were 
marched towards the South, via Murfreesboro, Tullahoma, 
Athens, and Decatur, a march of two hundred and fifty miles. 
At the latter place we took the cars again, and were trans- 
ported to Corinth, where we arrived on the 25th March. Here 
it leaked out that a surprise was intended against our army, 
by the conqueror of Donelson, who had landed from the Ten- 
nessee River near Shiloh, some twenty-four miles away from 
us. Brigades and regiments were daily arriving, belonging to 
the divisions of Generals Clark, Cheatham, Bragg, Withers, 
and Breckenridge, which were finally formed into three army 
corps, under the inspection commands of Polk, Braxton, Bragg, 
and Hardee, and were now united under the commands of 
Generals Albert Sidney Johnston, and P. G. T. Beauregard. 



CHAPTER VIII 
SHILOH 

ON April 2, 1862, we received ■ orders to prepare three 
days' cooked rations. Through some misunderstand- 
ing, we did not set out until the 4th; and, on the 
morning of that day, the 6th Arkansas Regiment of Hind- 
man's brigade, Hardee's corps, marched from Corinth to take 
part in one of the bloodiest battles of the West. We left our 
knapsacks and tents behind us. After two days of marching, 
and two nights of bivouacking and living on cold rations, our 
spirits were not so buoyant at dawn of Sunday, the 6th April, 
as they ought to have been for the serious task before us. 
Many wished, like myself, that we had not been required to 
undergo this discomfort before being precipitated into the 
midst of a great battle. 

Military science, with all due respect to our generals, was 
not at that time what it is now. Our military leaders were well 
acquainted with the science of war, and, in the gross fashion 
prevailing, paid proper attention to the commissariat. Every 
soldier had his lawful allowance of raw provender dealt out to 
him ; but, as to its uses and effects, no one seemed to be con- 
cerned. Future commanding generals will doubtless remedy 
this, and when they meditate staking their cause and reputa- 
tion on a battle, they will, like the woodman about to do a 
good day's work at cutting timber, see that their instruments 
are in the best possible state for their purpose. 

Generals Johnston and Beauregard proposed to hurl into 
the Tennessee River an army of nearly 50,000 rested and well- 
fed troops, by means of 40,000 soldiers, who, for two days, had 
subsisted on sodden biscuit and raw bacon, who had been 
exposed for two nights to rain and dew, and had marched 
twenty-three miles ! Considering that at least a fourth of our 
force were lads under twenty, and that such a strenuous task 
was before them, it suggests itself to me that the omission to 
take the physical powers of those youths into their calculation 



SHILOH 187 

had as much to do with the failure of the project as the ob- 
stinate courage of General Grant's troops. According to au- 
thority, the actual number of the forces about to be opposed 
to each other was 39,630 Confederates against 49,232 Fed- 
erals. Our generals expected the arrival of General Van Dorn, 
with 20,000 troops, who failed to make their appearance ; but, 
close at hand to Grant, was General Buell's force of 20,000, 
who, opportunely for Grant, arrived just at the close of the 
day's battle. 

At four o'clock in the morning, we rose from our damp 
bivouac, and, after a hasty refreshment, were formed into 
line. We stood in rank for half an hour or so, while the military 
dispositions were being completed along the three-mile front. 
Our brigade formed the centre; Cleburne's and Gladden's 
brigades were on our respective flanks. 

Day broke with every promise of a fine day. Next to me, 
on my right, was a boy of seventeen, Henry Parker. I remem- 
ber it because, while we stood-at-ease, he drew my attention 
to some violets at his feet, and said, ' It would be a good idea 
to put a few into my cap. Perhaps the Yanks won't shoot me 
if they see me wearing such flowers, for they are a sign of 
peace.' 'Capital,' said I, 'I will do the same.' We plucked a 
bunch, and arranged the violets in our caps. The men in the 
ranks laughed at our proceedings, and had not the enemy 
been so near, their merry mood might have been communi- 
cated to the army. 

We loaded our muskets, and arranged our cartridge- 
pouches ready for use. Our weapons were the obsolete flint- 
locks,^ and the ammunition was rolled in cartridge-paper, 
which contained powder, a round ball, and three buckshot. 
When we loaded we had to tear the paper with our teeth, 
empty a little powder into the pan, lock it, empty the rest of 
the powder into the barrel, press paper and ball into the muz- 
zle, and ram home. Then the Orderly-sergeant called the roll, 
and we knew that the Dixie Greys were present to a man. 
Soon after, there was a commotion, and we dressed up smartly. 
A young Aide galloped along our front, gave some instructions 

' Beauregard {Military Operations, vol. i, p. 300), writing of the battle-field of Shiloh, 
says, " One cheering feature, however, was the strewing of old flint-locks and double- 
barrelled shot-guns, exchanged for the Enfield and Minie rifles abandoned by the 
enemy." — D. S. 



i88 HENRY M. STANLEY 

to the Brigadier Hindman, who confided the same to his 
Colonels, and presently we swayed forward in line, with shoul- 
dered arms. Newton Story, big, broad, and straight, bore our 
company-banner of gay silk, at which the ladies of our neigh- 
bourhood had laboured. 

As we tramped solemnly and silently through the thin 
forest, and over its grass, still in its withered and wintry hue, I 
noticed that the sun was not far from appearing, that our 
regiment was keeping its formation admirably, that the woods 
would have been a grand place for a picnic ; and I thought it 
strange that a Sunday should have been chosen to disturb the 
holy calm of those woods. 

Before we had gone five hundred paces, our serenity was 
disturbed by some desultory firing in front. It was then a 
quarter-past five. 'They are at it already,' we whispered to 
each other. 'Stand by, gentlemen,' — for we were all gentle- 
men volunteers at this time, — said our Captain, L. G. Smith. 
Our steps became unconsciously brisker, and alertness was 
noticeable in everybody. The firing continued at intervals, 
deliberate and scattered, as at target-practice. We drew 
nearer to the firing, and soon a sharper rattling of musketry 
was heard. 'That is the enemy waking up,' we said. Within 
a few minutes, there was another explosive burst of musketry, 
the air was pierced by many missiles, which hummed and 
pinged sharply by our ears, pattered through the tree-tops, 
and brought twigs and leaves down on us. 'Those are bullets,' 
Henry whispered with awe. 

At two hundred yards further, a dreadful roar of musketry 
broke out from a regiment adjoining ours. It was followed by 
another further off, and the sound had scarcely died away 
when regiment after regiment blazed away and made a con- 
tinuous roll of sound. 'We are in for it now,' said Henry; 
but as yet we had seen nothing, though our ears were tingling 
under the animated volleys. 

'Forward, gentlemen, make ready!' urged Captain Smith. 
In response, we surged forward, for the first time marring the 
alignment. We trampled recklessly over the grass and young 
sprouts. Beams of sunlight stole athwart our course. The 
sun was up above the horizon. Just then we came to a bit 
of packland, and overtook our skirmishers, who had been 



^ SHILOH 189 

engaged in exploring our front. We passed beyond them. 
Nothing now stood between us and the enemy. 

'There they are!' was no sooner uttered, than we cracked 
into them with levelled muskets. ' Aim low, men !' commanded 
Captain Smith. I tried hard to see some living thing to shoot 
at, for it appeared absurd to be blazing away at shadows. 
But, still advancing, firing as we moved, I, at last, saw a row of 
little globes of pearly smoke streaked with crimson, breaking- 
out, with spurtive quickness, from a long line of bluey figures 
in front; and, simultaneously, there broke upon our ears an 
appalling crash of sound, the series of fusillades following one 
another with startling suddenness, which suggested to my 
somewhat moidered sense a mountain upheaved, with huge 
rocks tumbling and thundering down a slope, and the echoes 
rumbling and receding through space. Again and again, 
these loud and quick explosions were repeated, seemingly with 
increased violence, until they rose to the highest pitch of fur}% 
and in unbroken continuity. All the world seemed involved 
in one tremendous ruin ! 

This was how the conflict was ushered in — as it affected 
me. I looked around to see the effect on others, or whether I 
was singular in my emotions, and was glad to notice that each 
was possessed with his own thoughts. All were pale, solemn, 
and absorbed ; but, beyond that, it was impossible for me to 
discover what they thought of it; but, by transmission of 
sympathy, I felt that they would gladly prefer to be elsewhere, 
though the law of the inevitable kept them in line to meet 
their destiny. It might be mentioned, however, that at no 
time were we more instinctively inclined to obey the voice of 
command. We had no individuality at this moment, but all 
motions and thoughts were surrendered to the unseen influ- 
ence which directed our movements. Probably few bothered 
their minds with self-questionings as to the issue to them- 
selves. That properly belongs to other moments, to the night, 
to the interval between waking and sleeping, to the first mo- 
ments of the dawn — not when every nerve is tense, and the 
spirit is at the highest pitch of action. 

Though one's senses were preternaturally acute, and en- 
gaged with their impressions, we plied our arms, loaded, and 
fired, with such nervous haste as though it depended on each 



190 HENRY M. STANLEY 

of us how soon this fiendish uproar would be hushed. My 
nerves tingled, my pulses beat double-quick, my heart throbbed 
loudly, and almost painfully ; but, amid all the excitement, my 
thoughts, swift as the flash of lightning, took all sound, and 
sight, and self, into their purview. I listened to the battle 
raging far away on the flanks, to the thunder in front, to the 
various sounds made by the leaden storm. I was angry with 
my rear rank, because he made my eyes smart with the 
powder of his musket ; and I felt like cuffing him for deafening 
my ears ! I knew how Captain Smith and Lieutenant Mason 
looked, how bravely the Dixie Greys' banner ruffied over 
Newton Story's head, and that all hands were behaving as 
though they knew how long all this would last. Back to my- 
self my thoughts came, and, with the whirring bullet, they 
fled to the blue-bloused ranks afront. They dwelt on their 
movements, and read their temper, as I should read time by 
a clock. Through the lurid haze the contours of their pink 
faces could not be seen, but their gappy, hesitating, inco- 
herent, and sensitive line revealed their mood clearly. 

We continued advancing, step by step, loading and firing 
as we went. To every forward step, they took a backward 
move, loading and firing as they slowly withdrew. Twenty 
thousand muskets were being fired at this stage, but, though 
accuracy of aim was impossible, owing to our labouring hearts, 
and the jarring and excitement, many bullets found their 
destined billets on both sides. 

After a steady exchange of musketry, which lasted some 
time, we heard the order: 'Fix Bayonets! On the double- 
quick!' in tones that thrilled us. There was a simultaneous 
bound forward, each soul doing his best for the emergency. 
The Federals appeared inclined to await us; but, at this junc- 
ture, our men raised a yell, thousands responded to it, and 
burst out into the wildest yelling it has ever been my lot to 
hear. It drove all sanity and order from among us. It served 
the double purpose of relieving pent-up feelings, and trans- 
mitting encouragement along the attacking line. I rejoiced 
in the shouting like the rest. It reminded me that there were 
about four hundred companies like the Dixie Greys, who 
shared our feelings. Most of us, engrossed with the musket- 
work, had forgotten the fact; but the wave after wave of 



SHILOH 191 

human voices, louder than all other battle-sounds together, 
penetrated to every sense, and stimulated our energies to the 
utmost. 

'They fly!' was echoed from lip to lip. It accelerated our 
pace, and filled us with a noble rage. Then I knew what the 
Berserker passion was ! It deluged us with rapture, and trans- 
figured each Southerner into an exulting victor. At such a 
moment, nothing could have halted us. 

Those savage yells, and the sight of thousands of racing 
figures coming towards them, discomfited the blue-coats; 
and when we arrived upon the place where they had stood, 
they had vanished. Then we caught sight of their beautiful 
array of tents, before which they had made their stand, after 
being roused from their Sunday-morning sleep, and huddled 
into line, at hearing their pickets challenge our skirmishers. 
The half-dressed dead and wounded showed what a surprise 
our attack had been. We drew up in the enemy's camp, 
panting and breathing hard. Some precious minutes were 
thus lost in recovering our breaths, indulging our curiosity, 
and re-forming our line. Signs of a hasty rouse to the battle 
were abundant. Military equipments, uniform-coats, half- 
packed knapsacks, bedding, of a new and superior quality, 
littered the company streets. 

Meantime, a series of other camps lay behind the first array 
of tents. The resistance we had met, though comparatively 
brief, enabled the brigades in rear of the advance camp to 
recover from the shock of the surprise ; but our delay had not 
been long enough to give them time to form in proper order of 
battle. There were wide gaps between their divisions, into 
which the quick-flowing tide of elated Southerners entered, 
and compelled them to fall back lest they should be surrounded. 
Prentiss's brigade, despite their most desperate efforts, were 
thus hemmed in on all sides, and were made prisoners. 

I had a momentary impression that, with the capture of 
the first camp, the battle was well-nigh over ; but, in fact, it 
was only a brief prologue of the long and exhaustive series of 
struggles which took place that day. 

Continuing our advance, we came in view of the tops of 
another mass of white tents, and, almost at the same time, 
were met by a furious storm of bullets, poured on us from a 



192 HENRY M. STANLEY 

long line of blue-coats, whose attitude of assurance proved to us 
that we should have tough work here. But we were so much 
heartened by our first success that it would have required a 
good deal to have halted our advance for long. Their oppor- 
tunity for making a full impression on us came with terrific 
suddenness. The world seemed bursting into fragments. Can- 
non and musket, shell and bullet, lent their several intensities 
to the distracting uproar. If I had not a fraction of an ear, 
and an eye inclined towards my Captain and Company, I had 
been spell-bound by the energies now opposed to us. I likened 
the cannon, with their deep bass, to the roaring of a great 
herd of lions; the ripping, cracking musketry, to the inces- 
sant yapping of terriers ; the windy whisk of shells, and zip- 
ping of minie bullets, to the swoop of eagles, and the buzz of 
angry wasps. All the opposing armies of Grey and Blue 
fiercely blazed at each other. 

After being exposed for a few seconds to this fearful down- 
pour, we heard the order to 'Lie down, men, and continue 
your firing!' Before me was a prostrate tree, about fifteen 
inches in diameter, with a narrow strip of light between it and 
the ground. Behind this shelter a dozen of us flung ourselves. 
The security it appeared to offer restored me to my individu- 
ality. We could fight, and think, and observe, better than 
out in the open. But it was a terrible period ! How the can- 
non bellowed, and their shells plunged and bounded, and flew 
with screeching hisses over us ! Their sharp rending explosions 
and hurtling fragments made us shrink and cower, despite 
our utmost efforts to be cool and collected. I marvelled, as I 
heard the unintermitting patter, snip, thud, and hum of the 
bullets, how anyone could live under this raining death. I 
could hear the balls beating a merciless tattoo on the outer 
surface of the log, pinging vivaciously as they flew off at a 
tangent from it, and thudding into something or other, at the 
rate of a hundred a second. One, here and there, found its way 
under the log, and buried itself in a comrade's body. One 
man raised his chest, as if to yawn, and jostled me. I turned 
to him, and saw that a bullet had gored his whole face, and 
penetrated into his chest. Another ball struck a man a deadly 
rap on the head, and he turned on his back and showed his 
ghastly white face to the sky. 



SHILOH 193 

'It is getting too warm, boys!' cried a soldier, and he ut- 
tered a vehement curse upon keeping soldiers hugging the 
ground until every ounce of courage was chilled. He lifted 
his head a little too high, and a bullet skimmed over the top 
of the log and hit him fairly in the centre of his forehead, and 
he fell heavily on his face. But his thought had been instan- 
taneously general ; and the officers, with one voice, ordered the 
charge; and cries of 'Forward, forward!' raised us, as with a 
spring, to our feet, and changed the complexion of our feelings. 
The pulse of action beat feverishly once more ; and, though 
overhead was crowded with peril, we were unable to give it 
so much attention as when we lay stretched on the groilnd. 

Just as we bent our bodies for the onset, a boy's voice cried 
out, 'Oh, stop, please stop a bit, I have been hurt, and can't 
move!' I turned to look, and saw Henry Parker, standing 
on one leg, and dolefully regarding his smashed foot. In 
another second, we were striding impetuously towards the 
enemy, vigorously plying our muskets, stopping only to prime 
the pan and ram the load down, when, with a spring or two, 
we would fetch up with the front, aim, and fire. 

Our progress was not so continuously rapid as we desired, 
for the blues were obdurate; but at this moment we were 
gladdened at the sight of a battery galloping to our assistance. 
It was time for the nerve-shaking cannon to speak. After two 
rounds of shell and canister, we felt the pressure on us 
slightly relaxed ; but we were still somewhat sluggish in dis- 
position, though the officers' voices rang out imperiously. 
Newton Story at this juncture strode forward rapidly with the 
Dixies' banner, until he was quite sixty yards ahead of the 
foremost. Finding himself alone, he halted ; and turning to 
us smilingly, said, 'Why don't you come on, boys?' You see 
there is no danger!' His smile and words acted on us like 
magic. We raised the yell, and sprang lightly and hopefully 
towards him. 'Let's give them hell, boys!' said one. 'Plug 
them plum-centre, every time!' 

It was all very encouraging, for the yelling and shouting 
were taken up by thousands. " Forward, forward ; don't give 
them breathing time!' was cried. We instinctively obeyed, 
and soon came in clear view of the blue-coats, who were 
scornfully unconcerned at first ; but, seeing the leaping tide of 



194 HENRY M. STANLEY 

men coming on at a tremendous pace, their front dissolved, 
and they fled in double-quick retreat. Again we felt the 
'glorious joy of heroes.' It carried us on exultantly, rejoicing 
in the spirit which recognises nothing but the prey. We were 
no longer an army of soldiers, but so many school-boys racing, 
in which. length of legs, wind, and condition tell. 

We gained the second line of camps, continued the rush 
through them, and clean beyond. It was now about ten 
o'clock. My physical powers were quite exhausted, and, to 
add to my discomfiture, something struck me on my belt- 
clasp, and tumbled me headlong to the ground. 

I could not have been many minutes prostrated before I 
recovered from the shock of the blow and fall, to find my clasp 
deeply dented and cracked. My company was not in sight. 
I was grateful for the rest, and crawled feebly to a tree, and 
plunging my hand into my haversack, ate ravenously. Within 
half an hour, feeling renovated, I struck north in the direction 
which my regiment had taken, over a ground strewn with 
bodies and the debris of war. 

The desperate character of this day's battle was now 
brought home to my mind in all its awful reality. While in the 
tumultuous advance, and occupied with a myriad of exciting 
incidents, it was only at brief intervals that I was conscious 
of wounds being given and received ; but now, in the trail of 
pursuers and pursued, the ghastly relics appalled every sense. 
I felt curious as to who the fallen Greys were, and moved to 
one stretched straight out. It was the body of a stout English 
Sergeant of a neighbouring company, the members of which 
hailed principally from the Washita Valley. At the crossing 
of the Arkansas River this plump, ruddy-faced man had been 
conspicuous for his complexion, jovial features, and good- 
humour, and had been nicknamed 'John Bull.' He was now 
lifeless, and lay with his eyes wide open, regardless of the 
scorching sun, and the tempestuous cannonade which sounded 
through the forest, and the musketry that crackled incessantly 
along the front. 

Close by him was a young Lieutenant, who, judging by the 
new gloss on his uniform, must have been some father's 
darling. A clean bullet-hole through the centre of his fore- 
head had instantly ended his career. A little further were 



SHILOH 195 

some twenty bodies, lying in various postures, each by its 
own pool of viscous blood, which emitted a peculiar scent, 
which was new to me, but which I have since learned is in- 
separable from a battle-field. Beyond these, a still larger 
group lay, body overlying body, knees crooked, arms erect, or 
wide-stretched and rigid, according as the last spasm over- 
took them. The company opposed to them must have shot 
straight. 

Other details of that ghastly trail formed a mass of horrors 
that will always be remembered at the mention of Shiloh. I 
can never forget the impression those wide-open dead eyes 
made on me. Each seemed to be starting out of its socket, 
with a look similar to the fixed wondering gaze of an infant, as 
though the dying had viewed something appalling at the last 
moment. * Can it be,' I asked myself, ' that at the last glance 
they saw their own retreating souls, and wondered why their 
caskets were left behind, like offal?' My surprise was that the 
form we made so much of, and that nothing was too good for, 
should now be mutilated, hacked, and outraged ; and that the 
life, hitherto guarded as a sacred thing, and protected by the 
Constitution, Law, Ministers of Justice, Police, should, of a 
sudden, — at least, before I can realise it, — be given up to 
death ! 

An object once seen, if it has affected my imagination, re- 
mains indelibly fixed In my memory ; and, among many other 
scenes with which it is now crowded, I cannot forget that 
half-mile square of woodland, lighted brightly by the sun, 
and littered by the forms of about a thousand dead and 
wounded men, and by horses, and military equipments. It 
formed a picture that may always be reproduced with an 
almost absolute fidelity. For it was the first Field of Glory I 
had seen in my May of life, and the first time that Glory 
sickened me with its repulsive aspect, and made me suspect 
it was all a glittering lie. In my imagination, I saw more than 
it was my fate to see with my eyes, for, under a flag of truce, 
I saw the bearers pick up the dead from the field, and lay them 
in long rows beside a wide trench ; I saw them laid, one by 
one, close together at the bottom, — thankless victims of a 
perished cause, and all their individual hopes, pride, honour, 
names, buried under oblivious earth. 



196 HENRY M. STANLEY 

My thoughts reverted to the time when these festering 
bodies were idolized objects of their mothers' passionate love, 
their fathers standing by, half-fearing to touch the fragile 
little things, and the wings of civil law out-spread to protect 
parents and children in their family loves, their coming and 
going followed with pride and praise, and the blessing of the 
Almighty over-shadowing all. Then, as they were nearing 
manhood, through some strange warp of Society, men in 
authority summoned them from school and shop, field and 
farm, to meet in the woods on a Sunday morning for mutual 
butchery with the deadliest instruments ever invented. Civil 
Law, Religion, and Morality complaisantly standing aside, 
while 90,000 young men, who had been preached and moral- 
ized to, for years, were let loose to engage in the carnival of 
slaughter. 

Only yesterday, they professed to shudder at the word 
'Murder.' To-day, by a strange twist in human nature, they 
lusted to kill, and were hounded on in the work of destruction 
by their pastors, elders, mothers, and sisters. Oh, for once, I 
was beginning to know the real truth! Man was born for 
slaughter ! All the pains taken to soothe his savage heart were 
unavailing! Holy words and heavenly hopes had no lasting 
effect on his bestial nature, for, when once provoked, how 
swiftly he flung aside the sweet hope of Heaven, and the 
dread of Hell, with which he amused himself in time of ease ! 

As I moved, horror-stricken, through the fearful shambles, 
where the dead lay as thick as the sleepers in a London park 
on a Bank Holiday, I was unable to resist the belief that my 
education had been in abstract things, which had no relation 
to our animal existence. For, if human life is so disparaged, 
what has it to do with such high subjects as God, Heaven, and 
Immortality? And to think how devotional men and women 
pretended to be, on a Sunday ! Oh, cunning, cruel man I He 
knew that the sum of all real knowledge and effort was to 
know how to kill and mangle his brothers, as we were doing 
to-day ! Reflecting on my own emotions, I wondered if other 
youths would feel that they had been deluded like myself with 
man's fine polemics and names of things, which vanished 
with the reality. 

A multitude of angry thoughts surged through me, which 



. SHILOH 197 

I cannot describe in detail, but they amounted to this, that a 
cruel deception had been practised on my blank ignorance, 
that my atom of imagination and feeling had been darkened, 
and that man was a portentous creature from which I recoiled 
with terror and pity. He was certainly terrible and hard, but 
he was no more to me now than a two-legged beast; he was 
cunning beyond finding out, but his morality was only a mask 
for his wolfish heart ! Thus, scoffing and railing at my infatua- 
tion for moral excellence as practised by humanity, I sought 
to join my company and regiment. 

The battle-field maintained the same character of undu- 
lated woodland, being, in general, low ridges separated by 
broad depressions, which sunk occasionally into ravines of 
respectable depth. At various places, wide clearings had been 
made ; and I came across a damp bottom or two covered with 
shrubs. For a defensive force there were several positions 
that were admirable as rallying-points, and it is perhaps 
owing to these, and the undoubted courage exhibited by the 
Federal troops, that the battle was so protracted. Though 
our attack had been a surprise, it was certain that they fought 
as though they were resolved to deny it ; and, as the ground to 
be won from the enemy was nearly five miles in depth, and 
every half mile or so they stood and obstinately contested it, 
all the honours of the day were not to be with us. 

I overtook my regiment about one o'clock, and found that 
it was engaged in one of these occasional spurts of fury. The 
enemy resolutely maintained their ground, and our side was 
preparing for another assault. The firing was alternately 
brisk and slack. We lay down, and availed ourselves of trees, 
logs, and hollows, and annoyed their upstanding ranks ; bat- 
tery pounded battery, and, meanwhile, we hugged our resting- 
places closely. Of a sudden, we rose and raced towards the 
position, and took it by sheer weight and impetuosity, as we 
had done before. About three o'clock, the battle grew very 
hot. The enemy appeared to be more concentrated, and im- 
movably sullen. Both sides fired better as they grew more , 
accustomed to the din ; but, with assistance from the reserves, 
we were continually pressing them towards the river Tennes- 
see, without ever retreating an inch. 

About this time, the enemy were assisted by the gun-boats, 



198 HENRY M. STANLEY 

which hurled their enormous projectiles far beyond us; but, 
though they made great havoc among the trees, and created 
terror, they did comparatively little damage to those in close 
touch with the enemy. 

The screaming of the big shells, when they first began to 
sail over our heads, had the effect of reducing our fire ; for they 
were as fascinating as they were distracting. But we became 
used to them, and our attention was being claimed more in 
front. Our officers were more urgent; and, when we saw the 
growing dyke of white cloud that signalled the bullet-storm, we 
could not be indifferent to the more immediate danger. Dead 
bodies, wounded men writhing in agony, and assuming every 
distressful attitude, were frequent sights ; but what made us 
heart-sick was to see, now and then, the well-groomed charger 
of an officer, with fine saddle, and scarlet and yellow-edged 
cloth, and brass- tipped holsters, or a stray cavalry or artillery 
horse, galloping between the lines, snorting with terror, while 
his entrails, soiled with dust, trailed behind him. 

Our officers had continued to show the same alertness and 
vigour throughout the day ; but, as it drew near four o'clock, 
though they strove to encourage and urge us on, they began 
to abate somewhat in their energy ; and it was evident that 
the pluckiest of the men lacked the spontaneity and spring- 
ing ardour which had distinguished them earlier in the day. 
Several of our company lagged wearily behind, and the re- 
mainder showed, by their drawn faces, the effects of their 
efforts. Yet, after a short rest, they were able to make splendid 
spurts. As for myself, I had only one wish, and that was for 
repose. The long-continued excitement, the successive taut- 
ening and relaxing of the nerves, the quenchless thirst, made 
more intense by the fumes of sulphurous powder, and the 
caking grime on the lips, caused by tearing the paper car- 
tridges, and a ravening hunger, all combined, had reduced me 
to a walking automaton, and I earnestly wished that night 
would come, and stop all further effort. 

Finally, about five o'clock, we assaulted and captured a 
large camp ; after driving the enemy well away from it, the 
front line was as thin as that of a skirmishing body, and we 
were ordered to retire to the tents. There we hungrily sought 
after provisions, and I was lucky in finding a supply of biscuits 



SHILOH 199 

and a canteen of excellent molasses, which gave great comfort 
to myself and friends. The plunder in the camp was abundant. 
There were bedding, clothing, and accoutrements without 
stint; but people were so exhausted they could do no more 
than idly turn the things over. Night soon fell, and only a 
few stray shots could now be heard, to remind us of the thrill- 
irig and horrid din of the day, excepting the huge bombs from 
the gun-boats, which, as we were not far from the blue-coats, 
discomfited only those in the rear. By eight o'clock, I was 
repeating my experiences in the region of dreams, indifferent 
to columbiads and mortars, and the torrential rain which, at 
midnight, increased the miseries of the wounded and tentless. 

An hour before dawn, I awoke from a refreshing sleep ; and, 
after a hearty replenishment of my vitals with biscuit and 
molasses, I conceived myself to be fresher than on Sunday 
morning. While awaiting day-break, I gathered from other 
early risers their ideas in regard to the events of yesterday. 
They were under the impression that we had gained a great 
victory, though we had not, as we had anticipated, reached 
the Tennessee River. Van Dorn, with his expected reinforce- 
ments for us, was not likely to make his appearance for many 
days yet; and, if General Buell, with his 20,000 troops, had 
joined the enemy during the night, we had a bad day's work 
before us. We were short of provisions and ammunition. 
General Sidney Johnston, our chief Commander, had been 
killed ; but Beauregard was safe and unhurt, and, if Buell was 
absent, we would win the day. 

At daylight, I fell in with my Company, but there were only 
about fifty of the Dixies present. Almost immediately after, 
symptoms of the coming battle were manifest. Regiments 
were hurried into line, but, even to my inexperienced eyes, the 
troops were in ill-condition for repeating the efforts of Sunday. 
However, in brief time, in consequence of our pickets being 
driven in on us, we were moved forward in skirmishing order. 
With my musket on the trail I found myself in active motion, 
more active than otherwise I would have been, perhaps, 
because Captain Smith had said, 'Now, Mr. Stanley, if you 
please, step briskly forward !' This singling-out of me wounded 
my amour-propre, and sent me forward like a rocket. In a 
short time, we met our opponents in the same formation as 



200 HENRY M. STANLEY 

ourselves, and advancing most resolutely. We threw ourselves 
behind such trees as were near us, fired, loaded, and darted 
forward to another shelter. Presently, I found myself in an 
open, grassy space, with no convenient tree or stump near; 
but, seeing a shallow hollow some twenty paces ahead, I made 
a dash for it, and plied my musket with haste. I became so 
absorbed with some blue figures in front of me, that I did not 
pay sufficient heed to my companion greys; the open space 
was too dangerous, perhaps, for their advance ; for, had they 
emerged, I should have known they were pressing forward. 
Seeing my blues in about the same proportion, I assumed that 
the greys were keeping their position, and never once thought 
of retreat. However, as, despite our firing, the blues were 
coming uncomfortably near, I rose from my hollow ; but, to 
my speechless amazement, I found myself a solitary grey, in a 
line of blue skirmishers ! My companions had retreated ! The 
next I heard was, ' Down with that gun, Secesh, or I '11 drill a 
hole through you ! Drop it, quick!' 

Half a dozen of the enemy were covering me at the same 
instant, and I dropped my weapon, incontinently. Two men 
sprang at my collar, and marched me, unresisting, into the 
ranks of the terrible Yankees. / was a prisoner I 

When the senses have been concentrated upon a specific 
object with the intensity which a battle compels, and are 
forcibly and suddenly veered about by another will, the 
immediate result is, at first, stupefying. Before my con- 
sciousness had returned to me, I was being propelled vigor- 
ously from behind, and I was in view of a long, swaying line of 
soldiers, who were marching to meet us with all the precision 
of drill, and with such a close front that a rabbit would have 
found it difficult to break through. This sight restored me to 
all my faculties, and I remembered I was a Confederate, in 
misfortune, and that it behoved me to have some regard for 
my Uniform. I heard bursts of vituperation from several 
hoarse throats, which straightened my back and made me 
defiant. 

* Where are you taking that fellow to ? Drive a bayonet 

into the ! Let him drop where he is ! ' they cried by 

the dozen, with a German accent. They grew more excited as 
we drew nearer, and more men joined in the opprobrious 



SHILOH 201 

chorus. Then a few dashed from the ranks, with levelled bayo^ 
nets, to execute what appeared to be the general wish. 

I looked into their faces, deformed with fear and fury, and 
I felt intolerable loathing for the wild-eyed brutes! Their 
eyes, projected and distended, appeared like spots of pale blue 
ink, in faces of dough ! Reason had fled altogether from their 
features, and, to appeal for mercy to such blind, ferocious 
animalism would have been the height of absurdity, but I was 
absolutely indifferent as to what they might do with me 
now. Could I have multiplied myself into a thousand, such 
unintellectual-looking louts might have been brushed out of 
existence with ease — despite their numbers. They were ap- 
parently new troops, from such back-lands as were favoured 
by German immigrants ; and, though of sturdy build, another 
such mass of savagery and stupidity could not have been found 
within the four corners of North America. How I wished I 
could return to the Confederates, and tell them what kind of 
people were opposing them ! 

Before their bayonets reached me, my two guards, who 
were ruddy- faced Ohioans, flung themselves before me, and, 
presenting their rifles, cried, 'Here! stop that, you fellows ! He 
is our prisoner !' A couple of officers were almost as quick as 
they, and flourished their swords ; and, amid an expenditure of 
profanity, drove them quickly back into their ranks, cursing 
and blackguarding me in a manner truly American. A com- 
pany opened its lines as we passed to the rear. Once through, 
I was comparatively safe from the Union troops, but not from 
the Confederate missiles, which were dropping about, and 
striking men, right and left. 

Quickening our pace, we soon were beyond danger from 
my friends ; after which, I looked about with interest at the 
forces that were marching to retrieve their shame of yesterday. 
The troops we saw belonged to Buell, who had crossed the 
Tennessee, and was now joined by Grant. They presented a 
brave, even imposing, sight ; and, in their new uniforms, with 
glossy knapsacks, rubbers undimmed, brasses resplendent, 
they approached nearer to my idea of soldiers than our dingy 
grey troops. Much of this fine show and seeming steadiness 
was due to their newer equipments, and, as yet, unshaken 
nerves; but, though their movements were firm, they were 



202 HENRY M. STANLEY 

languid, and lacked the elan, the bold confidence, of the 
Southerners. Given twenty-four hours' rest, and the enjoy- 
ment of cooked rations, I felt that the Confederates would 
have crumpled up the handsome Unionists within a brief 
time. 

Though my eyes had abundant matter of interest within 
their range, my mind continually harked back to the miser- 
able hollow which had disgraced me, and I kept wondering 
how it was that my fellow-skirmishers had so quickly disap- 
peared. I was inclined to blame Captain Smith for urging me 
on, when, within a few minutes after, he must have withdrawn 
his men. But it was useless to trouble my mind with con- 
jectures. I was a prisoner! Shameful position! What would 
become of my knapsack, and my little treasures, — letters, and 
souvenirs of my father ? They were lost beyond recovery ! 

On the way, my guards and I had a discussion about our 
respective causes, and, though I could not admit it, there was 
much reason in what they said, and I marvelled that they 
could put their case so well. For, until now, I was under the 
impression that they were robbers who only sought to deso- 
late the South, and steal the slaves ; but, according to them, 
had we not been so impatient and flown to arms, the influence 
of Abe Lincoln and his fellow-abolitionists would not have 
affected the Southerners pecuniarily ; for it might have been 
possible for Congress to compensate slave-owners, that is, by 
buying up all slaves, and afterwards setting them free. But 
when the Southerners, who were not averse to selling their 
slaves in the open market, refused to consider anything relat- 
ing to them, and began to seize upon government property, 
forts, arsenals, and war-ships, and to set about establishing a 
separate system in the country, then the North resolved that 
this should not be, and that was the true reason of the war. 
The -Northern people cared nothing for the 'niggers,' — the 
slavery question could have been settled in another and 
quieter way, — but they cared all their lives were worth for 
their country. 

At the river-side there was tremendous activity. There 
were seven or eight steamers tied to the bank, discharging 
troops and stores. The commissariat stores and forage lay in 
mountainous heaps. In one place on the slope was a corral of 



SHILOH 203 

prisoners, about four hundred and fifty in number, who had 
been captured the day before. I was deHvered to the charge of 
the officer in command of the guards, and, in a few minutes, 
was left to my own reflections amid the unfortunates. 

The loss of the Union troops in the two days' fight was 
1754 killed, 8408 wounded, and 2885 captured; total, 13,047. 
That of the Confederates was 1728 killed, 8012 wounded, 
and 959 missing ; total, 10,699. 

The loss of Hindman's Brigade was 109 killed, 546 wounded, 
38 missing ; total, 693, — about a fifth of the number that 
went, on the Sunday morning, into action. 

Referring to these totals, 1754+1728=3482, killed, Gen- 
eral Grant, however, says, in his article on Shiloh : * This esti- 
mate of the Confederate loss must be incorrect. We buried, 
by actual count, more of the enemy's dead in front of the divi- 
sions of McClernand and Sherman alone than here reported ; 
and 4000 was the estimate of the burial parties for the whole 
field.' ^ 

Nine days after the battle of Shiloh, a conscript law was 
passed by the Confederate Congress which annulled all pre- 
vious contracts made with volunteers, and all men between 
eighteen and thirty-five were to be soldiers during the con- 
tinuance of the war. General T. C. Hindman, our brigade 

* Stanley, now having become a prisoner, is not able to conclude his personal account 
of this historical contest. It may be of interest to the reader if I briefly summarise the 
final result. 

On Sunday, April 6, 1862, was fought the greatest battle of the war. As General D. C. 
Buell says in a magazine article : ' The battle of Shiloh was the most famous, and, to 
both sides, the most interesting of the war.' The Confederate army advanced upon 
the Federal army, penetrated its disconnected lines, assaulted its camps in front and 
flank, and drove it from position to position, towards the Tennessee River. 

At the close of the day, when the retreating army was driven to take refuge in the 
midst of its magazines, a re-enforcing army was marching to its assistance, and an 
advance division, on the opposite bank of the river, checked the attacking force. 

At dawn, the next morning, Monday, April 7, General Buell heading the re-enforcing 
army, and with a fresh division of the defeated force, drove the Confederates from the 
field and recaptured the camps, after ten hours' desperate fighting. 

Whereupon General Beauregard, seeing the hopelessness of prolonging the contest, 
withdrew his army, in perfect order, and unmolested, to Corinth. There was no pursuit; 
and this was afterwards much commented on. But both armies appear to have been 
utterly spent, the Federal troops being as much outdone as the Confederates. General 
Grant stated that, though desirous of pursuing the retreating army, he ' had not the 
heart to order it to men who had fought desperately for two days, lying in the mud and 
rain, whenever not fighting.' — D. S. 



204 HENRY M. STANLEY 

commander, was appointed, fifty days after Shiloh, command- 
ing general of Arkansas, and enforced the conscript law re- 
morselessly. He collected an army of 20,000 under this law, 
and such as deserted were shot by scores, until he made 
himself odious to all by his ruthlessness, violence, and tyr- 
anny. 

While at Atlanta, Georgia, in March, 189 1, I received the 
following letter (which is copied verbatim) from * old Slate,' 
as we used to call him, owing to a certain quaint, old-man- 
nish humour which characterised him. 

Blue Ridge, Ga. 

March 28th, 1891. 
Dear Sir, — I am anxious to know if you enlisted in 
Company E., Dixie Greys, 6th Arkansas Regiment, Col. 
Lyon commanding, Lieut.-Col. Hawthorn, Capt. Smith com- 
manding Dixie Greys, Co. E. Col. Lyons was accidently 
killed on the Tennessee River, by riding off Bluff and horse 
falling on him. 

On the 6th April, 1862, the Confederates attacked the 
Yankees at Shiloh. Early in the morning I was wounded, 
and I never saw our boyish-looking Stanley no more, but 
understood he was captured, and sent North. I have read 
everything in newspapers, and your Histories, believing you 
are the same Great Boy. We all loved you, and regretted 
the results of that eventful day. This is enough for you to 
say, in reply, that you are the identical Boyish Soldier. 
You have wrote many letters for me. Please answer by 
return mail. 

Very truly yours, 

James M. Slate. 

Address : 
J. M. Slate, Blue Ridge. 



CHAPTER IX 
PRISONER OF WAR 

ON the 8th of April we were embarked on a steamer, 
and despatched to St. Louis. We were a sad lot of 
men. I feel convinced that most of them felt, with 
myself, that we were ill-starred wretches, and special objects 
of an unkind Fate. We made no advances to acquaintanceship, 
for what was the value of any beggarly individual amongst 
us? All he possessed in the world was a thin, dingy suit of 
grey, and every man's thoughts were of his own misfortune, 
which was as much as he could bear, without being bothered 
with that of another. 

On the third day, I think, we reached St. Louis, and were 
marched through the streets, in column of fours, to a Ladies' 
College, or some such building. On the way, we were not a 
little consoled to find that we had sympathisers, especially 
among the ladies, in the city. They crowded the sidewalks, 
and smiled kindly, and sometimes cheered, and waved dainty 
white handkerchiefs at us. How beautiful and clean they 
appeared, as compared with our filthy selves! While at the 
college, they besieged the building, and threw fruit and cakes 
at the struggling crowds in the windows, and in many ways 
assisted to lighten the gloom on our spirits. 

Four days later, we were embarked on railroad cars, and 
taken across the State of Illinois to Camp Douglas, on the 
outskirts of Chicago. Our prison-pen was a square and spa- 
cious enclosure, like a bleak cattle-yard, walled high with 
planking, on the top of which, at every sixty yards or so, were 
sentry-boxes. About fifty feet from its base, and running 
parallel with it, was a line of lime-wash. That was the 'dead- 
line,' and any prisoner who crossed it was liable to be shot. 

One end of the enclosure contained the offices of the author- 
ities. Colonel James A. MiUigan, one of the Irish Brigade 
(killed at Winchester, July 24th, 1864) commanded the camp. 
(Mr. Shipman, a citizen of Chicago, acted as chief commissary. 



2o6 HENRY M. STANLEY 

At the other end, at quite three hundred yards distance, were 
the buildings allotted to the prisoners, huge, barn-like struc- 
tures of planking, each about two hundred and fifty feet by 
forty, and capable of accommodating between two hundred 
and three hundred men. There may have been about twenty 
of these structures, about thirty feet apart, and standing in 
two rows; and I estimated that there were enough prisoners 
within it to have formed a strong brigade — say about three 
thousand men — when we arrived. I remember, by the regi- 
mental badges which they wore on their caps and hats, that 
they belonged to the three arms of the service, and that al- 
most every Southern State was represented. They were clad 
in home-made butternut and grey. 

To whatever it was due, the appearance of the prisoners 
startled me. The Southerners' uniforms were never pretty, 
but when rotten, and ragged, and swarming with vermin, 
they heightened the disreputability of their wearers; and, if 
anything was needed to increase our dejection after taking 
sweeping glances at the arid mud-soil of the great yard, the 
butternut and grey clothes, the sight of ash-coloured faces, and 
of the sickly and emaciated condition of our unhappy friends, 
were well calculated to do so. 

We were led to one of the great wooden barns, where we 
found a six-foot wide platform on each side, raised about 
four feet above the flooring. These platforms formed con- 
tinuous bunks for about sixty men, allowing thirty inches to 
each man. On the floor, two more rows of men could be ac- 
commodated. Several bales of hay were brought, out of which 
we helped ourselves for bedding. Blankets were also distrib- 
uted, one to each man. I, fortunately, found a berth on the 
right-hand platform, not far from the doorway, and my mate 
was a young sprig of Mississippi nobility named W. H. Wilkes 
(a nephew of Admiral C. Wilkes, U. S. Navy, the navigator, 
and captor of Mason and Slidell, Confederate Commission- 
ers) . 

Mr. Shipman soon after visited us, and, after inspection, 
suggested that we should form ourselves into companies, and 
elect officers for drawing rations and superintending of quar- 
ters. I was elected captain of the right-hand platform and 
berths below it. Blank books were served out to each captain, 



PRISONER OF WAR 207 

and I took the names of my company, which numbered over 
one hundred. By showing my book at the commissariat, and 
bringing a detail with me, rations of soft bread, fresh beef, 
coffee, tea^ potatoes, and salt, were handed to me by the 
gross, which I had afterwards to distribute to the chiefs of 
messes. 

On the next day (April l6th), after the morning duties had 
been performed, the rations divided, the cooks had departed 
contented, and the quarters swept, I proceeded to my nest 
and reclined alongside of my friend Wilkes, in a posture that 
gave me a command of one-half of the building. I made some 
remarks to him upon the card-playing groups opposite, when, 
suddenly, I felt a gentle stroke on the back of my neck, and, 
in an instant, I was unconscious. The next moment I had a 
vivid view of the village of Tremeirchion, and the grassy 
slopes of the hills of Hiraddog, and I seemed to be hover- 
ing over the rook woods of Brynbella. I glided to the bed- 
chamber of my Aunt Mary. My aunt was in bed, and seemed 
sick unto death. I took a position by the side of the bed, and 
saw myself, with head bent down, listening to her parting 
words, which sounded regretful, as though conscience smote 
her for not having been so kind as she might have been, or had 
wished to be. I heard the boy say, ' I believe you, aunt. It is 
neither your fault, nor mine. You were good and kind to me, 
and I knew you wished to be kinder ; but things were so or- 
dered that you had to be what you were. I also dearly wished 
to love you, but I was afraid to speak of it, lest you would 
check me, or say something that would offend me. I feel our 
parting was in this spirit. There is no need of regrets. You 
have done your duty to me, and you had children of your 
own, who required all your care. What has happened to me 
since, was decreed should happen. Farewell.' 

I put forth my hand and felt the clasp of the long, thin hands 
of the sore-sick woman, I heard a murmur of farewell, and 
immediately I woke. 

It appeared to me that I had but closed my eyes. I was still 
in the same reclining attitude, the groups opposite were still 
engaged in their card games, Wilkes was in the same position. 
Nothing had changed. 

I asked, 'What has happened?* 



2o8 HENRY M. STANLEY 

'What could happen?' said he. 'What makes you ask? It 
is but a moment ago you were speaking to me.' 

*Oh, I thought I had been asleep a long time.' 

On the next day, the 17th April, 1862, my Aunt Mary died 
at Fynnon Beuno ! 

I believe that the soul of every human being has its attend- 
ant spirit, — a nimble and delicate essence, whose method of 
action is by a subtle suggestion which it contrives to insinuate 
into the mind, whether asleep or awake. We are too gross to 
be capable of understanding the signification of the dream, the 
vision, or the sudden presage, or of divining the source of the 
premonition, or its purport. We admit that we are liable to 
receive a fleeting picture of an act, or a figure, at any moment ; 
but, except being struck by certain strange coincidences 
which happen to most of us, we seldom make an effort to 
unravel the mystery. The swift, darting messenger stamps 
an image on the mind, and displays a vision to the sleeper ; and 
if, as sometimes follows, among tricks and twists of an errant 
mind, or reflex acts of the memory, it happens to be a true 
representation of what is to happen, or has happened, thou- 
sands of miles away, we are left to grope hopelessly as to the 
manner and meaning of it, for there is nothing tangible to lay 
hold of. 

There are many things relating to my existence which are 
inexplicable to me, and probably it is best so ; this death-bed 
scene, projected on my mind's screen, across four thousand 
five hundred miles of space, is one of these mysteries. 

After Wilkes and I had thoroughly acquainted ourselves 
with all the evil and the good to be found at Camp Douglas, 
neither of us saw any reason at first why we could not wait 
with patience for the exchange of prisoners. But, as time 
passed, we found it to be a dreary task to endure the un- 
changing variety of misery surrounding us. I was often 
tempted with an impulse to challenge a malignant sentry's 
bullet, by crossing that ghastly 'dead-line,* which I saw every 
day I came out. A more unlovely sight than a sick Secession- 
ist, in a bilious butternut, it is scarcely possible to conceive. 
Though he had been naked and soiled by his own filth, there 
would still have remained some elements of attractiveness 
in him; but that dirty, ill-made, nut-coloured homespun 



PRISONER OF WAR 209 

aggravated every sense, and made the poor, sickly wretch 
unutterably ugly. 

In our treatment, I think there was a purpose. If so, it may 
have been from a belief that we should the sooner recover our 
senses by experiencing as much misery, pain, privation, and 
sorrow as could be contained within a prison ; and, therefore, 
the authorities rigidly excluded every medical, pious, musical, 
or literary charity that might have alleviated our sufferings. 
It was a barbarous age, it is true ; but there were sufficient 
Christian families in Chicago, who, I am convinced, only 
needed a suggestion, to have formed societies for the relief of 
the prisoners. And what an opportunity there was for such, 
to strengthen piety, to promote cheerfulness, soothe political 
ferocity, and subdue the brutal and vicious passions which 
possessed those thousands of unhappy youths immured within 
the horrible pen ! 

Left to ourselves, with absolutely nothing to do but to 
brood over our positions, bewail our lots, catch the taint of 
disease from each other, and passively abide in our prison-pen, 
we were soon in a fair state of rotting, while yet alive. The 
reaction from the excitement of the battle-field, and the 
cheerful presence of exulting thousands, was suspended for a 
few days by travel up the Mississippi, the generosity of lady- 
sympathisers in St. Louis, and the trip across Illinois; but, 
after a few days, it set in strong upon us, when once within 
the bleak camp at Chicago. Everything we saw and touched 
added its pernicious influence — the melancholy faces of those 
who were already wearied with their confinement, the num- 
bers of the sick, the premature agedness of the emaciated, the 
distressing degeneration of manhood, the plaints of suffering 
wretches, the increasing bodily discomfort from ever-multi- 
plying vermin, which infested every square inch. 

Within a week, our new draft commenced to succumb under 
the maleficent influences of our surroundings. Our buildings 
swarmed with vermin, the dust-sweepings were alive with 
them. The men began to suffer from bilious disorders ; dysen- 
tery and typhus began to rage. Day after day my company 
steadily diminished; and every morning I had to see them 
carried in their blankets to the hospital, whence none ever 
returned. Those not yet delirious, or too weak to move 



210 HENRY M. STANLEY 

unaided, we kept with us ; but the dysentery — however they 
contracted it — was of a peculiarly epidemical character, and 
its victims were perpetually passing us, trembling with weak- 
ness, or writhing with pain, exasperating our senses to such 
a degree that only the strong-minded could forego some 
expression of their disgust. 

The latrines were all at the rear of our plank barracks, and 
each time imperious nature compelled us to resort to them, we 
lost a little of that respect and consideration we owed our 
fellow-creatures. For, on the way thither, we saw crowds of 
sick men, who had fallen, prostrate from weakness, and given 
themselves wholly to despair; and, while they crawled or 
wallowed in their filth, they cursed and blasphemed as often 
as they groaned. In the edge of the gaping ditches, which 
provoked the gorge to look at, there were many of the sick 
people, who, unable to leave, rested there for hours, and 
made their condition hopeless by breathing the stenchful 
atmosphere. Exhumed corpses could not have presented any- 
thing more hideous than dozens of these dead-and-alive men, 
who, oblivious to the weather, hung OA^er the latrines, or lay 
extended along the open sewer, with only a few gasps inter- 
vening between them and death. Such as were not too far 
gone prayed for death, saying, 'Good God, let me die! Let 
me go, O Lord!' and one insanely damned his vitals and 
his constitution, because his agonies were so protracted. No 
self-respecting being could return from their vicinity with- 
out feehng bewildered by the infinite suffering, his existence 
degraded, and religion and sentiment blasted. 

Yet, indoors, what did we see? Over two hundred un- 
washed, unkempt, uncombed men, in the dismalest attitudes, 
occupied in relieving themselves from hosts of vermin, or 
sunk in gloomy introspection, staring blankly, with heads 
between their knees, at nothing ; weighed down by a surfeit of 
misery, internal pains furrowing their faces, breathing in a 
fine cloud of human scurf, and dust of offensive hay, dead to 
everything but the flitting fancies of the hopeless ! 

One intelligent and humane supervisor would have wrought 
wonders at this period with us, and arrested that swift demor- 
alization with which we were threatened. None of us were 
conspicuously wise out of our own sphere ; and of sanitary 



PRISONER OF WAR 211 

laws we were all probably as ignorant as of the etiology of 
sclerosis of the nerve-centres. In our colossal ignorance, we 
were perhaps doing something half-a-dozen times a day, as 
dangerous as eating poison, and constantly swallowing a few 
of the bacilli of typhus. Even had we possessed the necessary 
science at our finger-tips, we could not have done much, 
unaided by the authorities ; but when the authorities were as 
ignorant as ourselves, — I cannot believe their neglect of us 
was intentional, — we were simply doomed ! 

Every morning, the wagons came to the hospital and dead- 
house, to take away the bodies ; and I saw the corpses rolled 
in their blankets, taken to the vehicles, and piled one upon 
another, as the New Zealand frozen-mutton carcases are 
carted from the docks ! 

The statistics of Andersonville are believed to show that the 
South was even more callous towards their prisoners than the 
authorities of Camp Douglas were. I admit that we were 
better fed than the Union prisoners were, and against Colonel 
Milligan and Mr. Shipman I have not a single accusation to 
make. It was the age that was brutally senseless, and heed- 
lessly cruel. It was lavish and wasteful of life, and had not 
the least idea of what civilised warfare ought to be, except in 
strategy. It was at the end of the flint-lock age, a stupid and 
heartless age, which believed that the application of every 
variety of torture was better for discipline than kindness, 
and was guilty, during the war, of enormities that would tax 
the most saintly to forgive. 

Just as the thirties were stupider and crueller than the 
fifties, and the fifties were more bloody than the seventies, 
in the mercantile marine service, so a war in the nineties 
will be much more civilized than the Civil War of the sixties. 
Those who have survived that war, and have seen brotherly 
love re-established, and reconciliation completed, when they 
think of Andersonville, Libby, Camp Douglas, and other 
prisons, and of the blood shed in 2261 battles and skirmishes, 
must in this present peaceful year needs think that a moral 
epidemic raged, to have made them so intensely hate then what 
they profess to love now. Though a democratic government 
like the American will always be more despotic and arbitrary 
than that of a constitutional monarchy, even its army will 



212 HENRY M. STANLEY 

have its Red Cross societies, and Prisoners* Aid Society ; and 
the sights we saw at Camp Douglas will never be seen in 
America again. 

Were Colonel Milligan living now, he would admit that 
a better system of latrines, a ration of soap, some travelling 
arrangements for lavatories, a commissioned superintendent 
over each barrack, a brass band, the loan of a few second- 
hand books, magazines, and the best-class newspapers (with 
all war-news cut out) , would have been the salvation of two- 
thirds of those who died at Camp Douglas ; and, by showing 
how superior the United States Government was to the Con- 
federate States, would have sent the exchanged prisoners back 
to their homes in a spirit more reconciled than they were. 
Those in authority to-day also know that, though when in 
battle it is necessary to fight with all the venom of fiends for 
victory, once the rifle is laid down, and a man becomes a 
prisoner, a gracious treatment is more efficacious than the 
most revolting cruelty. Still, the civilized world is densely 
ignorant. It has improved immensely in thirty years, but 
from what I have seen in my travels in many lands, it is less 
disposed to be kind to man than to any other creatures ; and 
yet, none of all God's creatures is more sadly in need of pro- 
tection than he ! 

The only official connected with Camp Douglas whom I 
remember with pleasure is Mr. Shipman, the commissary. 
He was gentlemanly and white-haired, which, added to his 
unvarying benevolence and politeness, caused him to be re- 
garded by me as something of an agreeable wonder in that 
pestful yard. After some two days' acquaintance, while draw- 
ing the rations, he sounded me as to my intentions. I scarcely 
comprehended him at the outset, for Camp Douglas was not 
a place to foster intentions. He explained that, if I were tired 
of being a prisoner, I could be released by enrolling myself as a 
Unionist, that is, becoming a Union soldier. My eyes opened 
very wide at this, and I shook my head, and said, 'Oh, no, I 
could not do that.' Nothing could have been more unlikely ; 
I had not even dreamed that such an act was possible. 

A few days later, I said to Mr. Shipman, ' They have taken 
two wagon-loads of dead men away this morning.' He gave a 
sympathetic shrug, as if to say, 'It was all very sad, but what 



PRISONER OF WAR 213 

can we do ? ' He then held forth upon the superiority of the 
North, the certainty of defeat for the South, the pity it was 
to see young men throw their Hves away for such a cause as 
slavery, and so on ; in short, all that a genuinely kind man, 
but fervidly Northern, could say. His love embraced North- 
erners and Southerners alike, for he saw no distinction be- 
tween them, except that the younger brother had risen to 
smite the elder, and must be punished until he repented. 

But it was useless to try and influence me by political rea- 
sons. In the first place, I was too ignorant in politics, and too 
slow of comprehension, to follow his reasonings ; in the second 
place, every American friend of mine was a Southerner, and 
my adopted father was a Southerner, and I was blind through 
my gratitude ; and, in the third place, I had a secret scorn for 
people who could kill one another for the sake of African 
slaves. There were no blackies in Wales, and why a sooty- 
faced nigger from a distant land should be an element of 
disturbance between white brothers, was a puzzle to me. I 
should have to read a great deal about him, ascertain his 
wrongs and his rights, and wherein his enslavement was 
unjust and his liberty was desirable, before I could venture 
upon giving an opinion adverse to 20,000,000 Southerners. 
As I had seen him in the South, he was a half -savage, who 
had been exported by his own countrymen, and sold in 
open market, agreeable to time-honoured custom. Had the 
Southerners invaded Africa and made captives of the blacks, I 
might have seen some justice in decent and pious people ex- 
claiming against the barbarity. But, so far as I knew of the 
matter, it was only the accident of a presidential election 
which had involved the North and South in a civil war, and I 
could not take it upon me to do anything more than stand by 
my friends. 

But, in the course of six weeks, more powerful influences 
than Mr. Shipman's gentle reasoning were undermining my 
resolve to remain as a prisoner. These were the increase in 
sickness, the horrors of the prison, the oily atmosphere, the 
ignominious cartage of the dead, the useless flight of time, 
the fear of being incarcerated for years, which so affected my 
spirits that I felt a few more days of these scenes would drive 
me mad. Finally, I was persuaded to accept with several other 



214 HENRY M. STANLEY 

prisoners the terms of release, and enrolled myself in the U. S. 
Artillery Service, and, on the 4th June, was once more free to 
inhale the fresh air. 

But, after two or three days' service, the germs of the prison- 
disease, which had swept so many scores of fine young fellows 
to untimely graves, broke out with virulence in my system. 
I disguised my complaint as much as was possible, for, having 
been a prisoner, I felt myself liable to be suspected ; but, on 
the day of our arrival at Harper's Ferry, dysentery and low 
fever laid me prostrate. I was conveyed to the hospital, and 
remained there until the 22nd June, when I was discharged 
out of the service, a wreck. 

My condition at this time was as low as it would be possible 
to reduce a human being to, outside of an American prison. 
I had not a penny in my pocket; a pair of blue miHtary 
trousers clothed my nethers, a dark serge coat covered my 
back, and a mongrel hat my head. I knew not where to go : 
the seeds of disease were still in me, and I could not walk three 
hundred yards without stopping to gasp for breath. As, like a 
log, I lay at night under the stars, heated by fever, and bleed- 
ing internally, I thought I ought to die, according to what I 
had seen of those who yielded to death. As my strength de- 
parted, death advanced ; and there was no power or wish to 
resist left in me. But with each dawn there would come a tiny 
bit of hope, which made me forget all about death, and think 
only of food, and of the necessity of finding a shelter. Hagers- 
town is but twenty-four miles from Harper's Ferry; but it 
took me a week to reach a farm-house not quite half-way. I 
begged permission to occupy an out-house, which may have 
been used to store corn, and the farmer consented. My lips 
were scaled with the fever, eyes swimming, face flushed red, 
under the layer of a week's dirt — the wretchedest object 
alive, possibly, as I felt I was, by the manner the good fellow 
tried to hide his disgust. What of it ? He spread some hay in 
the out-house, and I dropped on it without the smallest wish 
to leave again. It was several days before I woke to con- 
sciousness, to find a mattress under me, and different clothes 
on me. I had a clean cotton shirt, and my face and hands 
were without a stain. A man named Humphreys was attend- 
ing to me, and he was the deputy of the farmer in his absence. 



PRISONER OF WAR 215 

By dint of assiduous kindness, and a diet of milk, I gained 
strength slowly, until I was able to sit in the orchard, when, 
with open air, exercise, and more generous food, I rapidly 
mended. In the early part of July, I was able to assist in the 
last part of the harvest, and to join in the harvest supper. 

The farm-house where my Good Samaritan lived is situated 
close to the Hagerstown pike — a few miles beyond Sharps- 
burg. My friend's name is one of the few that has escaped my 
memory. I stayed with him until the middle of August, well- 
fed and cared for, and when I left him he insisted on driving 
me to Hagerstown, and paying my railway fare to Baltimore, 
via Harrisburg.^ 

* Stanley remembered, afterwards, that the farm-house belonged to a Mr. Baker, and 
that, in June, 1862, he had walked there from Harper's Ferry — three miles from 
Sharpsburg, and nine miles from Hagerstown. Mr. Baker's house seemed to have been 
near the cross-roads — near the extreme left flank of McClellan's army. — D. S. 



PART II 

THE LIFE FROM STANLEY'S JOURNALS 
NOTES, ETC. 



CHAPTER X 
JOURNALISM 

UP to this point Stanley has told his own story. The chapter 
which follows is almost wholly a weaving together of mate- 
rial which he left. 
That material consists, first, of an occasional and very brief diary, 
which he kept from 1862 ; then, at irregular intervals through many 
years, entries in a fuller journal, and occasional comments and re- 
trospects in his note-books, during the last peaceful years of life. 

He was discharged from Harper's Ferry, June 22, 1862. Then he 
seems to have turned his hand to one resource and another, to sup- 
port himself; we find him ' harvesting in Maryland,' and, later, on 
an oyster-schooner, getting upon his feet, and out of the whirlpool 
of war into which he had naturally been drawn by mere propinquity, 
so to speak ; now his heart turned with longing to his own kin, and 
the belated affection which he trusted he might find. 

November, 1862. I arrived, in the ship *E. Sherman,' at 
Liverpool. I was very poor, in bad health, and my clothes 
were shabby. I made my way to Denbigh, to my mother's 
house. With what pride I knocked at the door, buoyed up by 
a hope of being able to show what manliness I had acquired, 
not unwilling, perhaps, to magnify what I meant to become; 
though what I was, the excellence of my present position, 
was not so obvious to myself! Like a bride arraying herself 
in her best for her lover, I had arranged my story to please 
one who would, at last, I hoped, prove an affectionate mother ! 
But I found no affection, and I never again sought for, or 
expected, what I discovered had never existed. 

I was told that ' I was a disgrace to them in the eyes of 
their neighbours, and they desired me to leave as speedily 
as possible.' 

This experience sank so deep, and, together with the life in earlier 
years, had so marked an effect on Stanley's character, that it 
seemed best to give it to the reader just as he noted it down as he 
mused over his life, near its close. When fame and prosperity came 
to him, he was just to the claims of blood, and gave practical help ; 
but the tenderness which lay deep in his nature, and the repeated 



220 HENRY M. STANLEY 

and hopeless rebuffs it encountered, produced, in the reaction, an 
habitual, strong self-suppression. The tenderness was there, through 
all the stirring years of action and achievement ; but it was guarded 
against such shocks as had earlier wounded it, by an habitual 
reserve, and an austere self-command. 

He returned to America, and, with a sort of rebound towards the 
world of vigorous action, threw himself, for a time, into the life of 
the sea. The motive, apparently, was partly as a ready means of 
livelihood, and partly a relish for adventure ; and adventure he cer- 
tainly found. Through 1863, and the early months of 1864, he was 
in one ship and another, in the merchant service ; sailing to the West 
Indies, Spain, and Italy. 

He condenses a ship-wreck into a two-line entry : ' Wrecked off 
Barcelona. Crew lost, in the night. Stripped naked, and swam to 
shore. Barrack of Carbineers . . . demanded my papers ! ' 

The end of 1863 finds him in Brooklyn, New York, where we have 
another brief chronicle : — 

Boarding with Judge X . Judge drunk ; tried to kill 

his wife with hatchet ; attempted three times. — I held him 
down all night. Next morning, exhausted; lighted cigar in 
parlour ; wife came down — insulted and raved at me for 
smoking in her house ! 

In August, 1864, he enlisted in the United States Navy, on the 
receiving ship ' North Carolina,' and was then assigned to the 
* Minnesota,' and afterwards to the ' Moses H. Stuyvesant,' where 
he served in the capacity of ship's writer. Nothing shows that he 
was impelled by any special motive of sympathy with the national 
cause. It has been told how he went into the Confederate service, as 
a boy naturally goes, carried along with the crowd. At this later time 
he may have caught something of the enthusiasm for the Union that 
filled the community about him ; or, very probably, he may have 
gone on a fighting ship simply as more exciting to his adventurous 
spirit than a peaceful merchantman. In any case, he embarked on 
what proved to be the beginning of his true occupation and career, 
as the observer and reporter of stirring events ; later, he was to play 
his part as a maker of events. 

There is nothing to show just how or why he became a newspaper 
correspondent, but we know the where ; and no ambitious reporter 
could ask a better chance for his first story than Stanley had when 
he witnessed the first and second attacks of the Federal forces on 
Fort Fisher, North Carolina. Those attacks are part of the history 
of the great war; how, in December, 1864, General Butler assailed 
the port from the sea, the explosion under its walls of a vessel 
charged with powder, being a performance as dramatic as many 
of Butler's military exploits ; how, a year later, a carefully-planned 



JOURNALISM 221 

expedition under General Terry, attacked the fort; how, after a 
two days' bombardment by the fleet, two thousand sailors and 
marines were landed, under instructions to ' board the fort in a sea- 
man-like manner'; how they were repelled by a murderous fire, 
while a force of soldiers assaulting from another side drove the 
defenders back, in a series of hand-to-hand contests, till the fort 
was won. 

On both those occasions, it fell to Stanley to watch the fight, 
to tell the story of it in his own lucid and vigorous style, and to 
have his letters welcomed by the newspapers, and given to the 
world. 

Three months later, in April, 1865, the war was ended, and 
Stanley left the Navy. Then, for a twelve-month, his diary gives 
only such glimpses of him as an occasional name of a place with 
date. * St, Joseph, Missouri, — across the Plains, — Indians, — 
Salt Lake City, — Denver, — Black Hawk, — Omaha.' Apparently 
through this time, he was impelled by an overflowing youthful 
energy, and an innate love of novelty and adventure. 

In his later years, he told how, in his early days, his exuberant 
vigour was such, that when a horse stood across his path his impulse 
was, not to go round, but to jump over it ! And he had a keen relish 
for the sights and novelties, the many-coloured life of the West. So 
he went light-heartedly on his way, — 

'For to admire and for to see, 
For to behold the world so wide.' 

Through this period he seems to have done more or less news- 
paper correspondence, and to have tended towards that as a pro- 
fession. Here belongs an episode which is told in one of the 
autobiographic fragments; the reckless frolic of boys recounted 
with the sobriety of age. 

Being connected with the press, my acquaintance was 
sought by some theatrical people in Omaha ; at which, being 
young and foolish, I was much gratified. After a benefit per- 
formance, which I was principally the means of getting up 
for them, I supped with them, and for the first time, I drank 
so much wine that I tasted the joys and miseries of intoxica- 
tion. My impression^ will not be forgotten, for though the 
faculty of self-restraint was helpless, the brain was not so 
clouded that I did not know what I was about. I was con- 
scious of an irrepressible hilarity, which provoked me to fling 
decorum to the winds, and of being overwhelmingly affec- 
tionate to my boon companions. 

The women of the party appeared more beautiful than 
houris, especially one for whom I felt ecstatic tenderness. 



222 HENRY M. STANLEY 

When we had supped and drank and exhausted our best 
stories, about two o'clock in the morning we agreed to sepa- 
rate, the ladies to their own homes, but we men to a frolic, 
or lark, in the open. The effect of wine was at its highest. 
We sallied out, singing, 'We won't go home till morning.' 
I was soon conscious that my tread was different, that the 
sidewalk reminded me of the deck of a ship in a gale, the 
lamp-posts were not perpendicular, and leaned perilously 
over, which made me babble about the singular waywardness 
and want of uprightness in houses and lamp-posts and awning 
columns, and the curious elasticity of the usually firm earth. 
I wished to halt and meditate about this sudden change of 
things in general. Scraps of marine songs about the ' briny 
ocean,' 'brave sailor boys,' and 'good ships be on her waters,' 
were suggested to me by the rocking ground, and burst in 
fluent song from my lips ; a noisier set than we became, it is 
scarcely possible to imagine. 

I wonder now we were not shot at, for the Omaha people 
were not very remarkable for forbearance when angered, and 
a charge of small shot would have been no more than we each 
of us well deserved. But someone suggested that vengeful 
men were after us, and that was enough to send us scampering, 
each to his home, at four o'clock in the morning. I reached 
my place without accident, and without meeting a single 
constable; and, plunging into bed, I fell into a deep sleep. 
My first waking made me aware of a racking headache, and 
a deep conviction that I had behaved disgracefully. 

I was enriched, however, by an experience that has lasted 
all my life, for I then vowed that this should be the last time 
I would have to condemn myself for a scandalous act of the 

kind. 'What an egregious fool I have been! Hang N 

and all his gang !' was my thought for many a day. 

Like David Copperfield's first supper-party, one such lesson was 
enough for a man who was to do a man's part ; he never again fell 
under Circe's spell. But the hunger for robust exploit was there, 
and he had found a companion of kindred tastes. With W. H. Cook, 
in May, 1866, he started for Denver. 'We bought some planking 
and tools, and, in a few hours, constructed a flat-bottomed boat. 
Having furnished it with provisions and arms against the Indians, 
towards evening we floated down the Platte River. After twice up- 
setting, and many adventures and narrow escapes, we reached the 



JOURNALISM 223 

Missouri River.' From Omaha they travelled to Boston, where in 
July, 1866, they took a sailing-ship for Smyrna. 

They had planned to go far into Asia. The precise nature of their 
plan is not recounted; but there is little doubt that Stanley was 
acting partly as a newspaper- correspondent. What was the base 
of supplies, or how ambitious were their hopes, is not told ; but 
they went on their own resources, and were well provided with 
money. Stanley seems from the first to have commanded good 
prices for his newspaper work, and he notes that he early took 
warning from the extravagance and dissipation which brought 
many a bright young fellow in the profession to grief. 

' I practiced a rigid economy, punished my appetites, and, little 
by little, the sums acquired through this abstinence began to impart 
a sense of security, and gave an independence to my bearing which, 
however I might strive to conceal it, betrayed that I was deliv- 
ered from the dependent state.' Thus, presumably, he had saved 
the sinews of war for this expedition. The opening stage, from the 
approach to the Asian shore, was crowded with interest. Stanley 
records with enthusiasm the appeal of classic and biblical associa- 
tion, the strangeness and fascination of Oriental scenery, the aspects 
of country and people. On leaving Smyrna, they plunged into the 
interior. It was his first draught of the wonder- world of the Orient, 
and he drank eagerly. 

But a speedy change fell on the travellers. First, the American 
lad whom they had brought with them as an attendant, out of sheer 
mischief set a fire ablaze, which spread, and threatened wide destruc- 
tion, bringing upon them a crowd of infuriated villagers, whom 
they had great difficulty in appeasing. Then, when they had pene- 
trated into wilder regions, they fell in with a treacherous guide, 
who brought upon them a horde of Turkomans. They were severely 
beaten, and robbed of all their money, — twelve hundred dollars, — 
their letter of credit, and all their personal equipment ; then dragged 
to a village, and arraigned as malefactors ; then hustled from place 
to place for five days, with indignity and abuse, to escape immi- 
nent death only by the intervention of a benevolent old man. 

The semi-civilized prison to which they were at last consigned 
proved a haven of refuge, for there appeared on the scene a Mr. 
Peloso, Agent of the Imperial Ottoman Bank at Constantinople, 
who bestirred himself in the friendliest manner on their behalf. 
Setting the facts of the case before the Turkish Governor, he com- 
pletely turned the tables on the ruffianly accusers by getting them 
put in prison to await their trial, while Stanley and his companions 
moved on their way to Constantinople. There, again, they received 
most effective friendship at the hands of Mr. Edward Joy Morris, 
the American Minister, and Mr. J. H. Goodenow, the American 
Consul-general. Warm hospitality was shewn them; Mr. Morris 
advanced ^^150 for their needs, their assailants were tried, found 



224 HENRY M. STANLEY 

guilty, and punished; ultimately the Turkish Government made 
good the money stolen. 

That was the end of the Stanley-Cook exploration of Asia. The 
explorer's first quest had met a staggering set-back. But, ' repulse 
is interpreted according to the man's nature/ as Morley puts it; 
' one of the differences between the first-rate man and the fifth-rate 
lies in the vigour with which the first-rate man recovers from this 
reaction, and crushes it down, and again flings himself once more 
upon the breach.* 



CHAPTER XI 
WEST AND EAST 

INDIAN WARS OF THE WEST. — ABYSSINIAN CAMPAIGN, ETC. 

STANLEY writes : 'My first entry into journalistic life 
as a selected " special" was at St. Louis after my return 
from Asia Minor. Hitherto, I had only been an attache, 
or supernumerary, as it were, whose communications had been 
accepted and most handsomely rewarded, when, as during 
the two bombardments of Fort Fisher, they described events 
of great public interest. I was now instructed to "write-up" 
North-western Missouri, and Kansas, and Nebraska. In 
1867, I was delegated to join General Hancock's expedi- 
tion against the Kiowas and Comanches, and, soon after the 
termination of a bloodless campaign, was asked to accompany 
the Peace Commission to the Indians.* 

These two expeditions he reported in a series of letters to the 
* Missouri Democrat,' which, in 1895, he made into the first of two 
volumes, * My Early Travels and Adventures.' It is the graphic 
story of a significant and momentous contact of civilization with 
savagery. Two years after the close of the Civil War, the tide of 
settlers was swiftly advancing over the great prairies of the West. 
The Union Pacific Railroad was being pushed forward at the rate 
of four miles a day. The Powder River military road was being con- 
structed to Montana, and forts erected along its line, through the 
best and most reliable hunting-grounds of the Sioux, and without 
their consent. The Indians throughout a wide region were thrown 
into a ferment, and there were outbreaks against the white settlers. 
In March, a force was sent out under General Hancock, which 
Stanley accompanied, with the general expectation of severe fight- 
ing. But General Hancock soon imparted to Stanley his views and 
purposes, which were to feel the temper of the Indians, to see who 
were guilty, and who were not; to learn which tribes were friendly- 
disposed; to separate them from the tribes bent on war; to make 
treaties wherever practicable; and to post more troops on certain 
roads. 

In a march of four hundred and fifty miles, he practically accom- 
plished this plan. The hostile Sioux and Cheyennes were detached 
from their allies, the Kiowas, Arapahoes, and Comanches ; and when 



226 HENRY M. STANLEY 

the hostlles stole away from the conference, and began outrages on 
the settlers, they were punished by the destruction of their villages. 
But after Hancock's return, the plains still seethed with menace and 
occasional outbreaks, and a general Indian war seemed imminent. 

In July, Congress met the emergency by the appointment and de- 
spatch of a Peace Commission. At its head was General Sherman, 
with a group of distinguished officers, two chief Indian Commis- 
sioners, and Senator Henderson, of Missouri. Sherman, after some 
very effective speeches to the Indians, left the further work to the 
other Peace Commissioners, who travelled far and wide over the 
Plains, for two thousand miles. They met the principal tribes in 
council, and made a series of treaties, which, with the distribution 
of presents, and the general view impressed upon the Indians in 
addresses, frank, friendly, and truthful, brought about a general 
pacification. 

In Stanley's picturesque story of all this, perhaps the most strik- 
ing feature is the speeches of the Indian chiefs as they set forth the 
feelings and wishes of their people. Said old Santanta; ' I love the 
land and the buffalo, and will not part with them. I don't want any 
of those medicine houses built in the country ; I want the papooses 
brought up exactly as I am. I have word that you intend to set- 
tle us on a Reservation near the mountains. I don't want to settle 
there. I love to roam over the wide prairie, and, when I do it, I feel 
free and happy ; but, when we settle down, we grow pale and die.' 

* Few,' writes Stanley, ' can read the speeches of the Indian chiefs 
without feeling deep sympathy for them; they move us by their 
pathos and mournful dignity. But they were asking the impossible. 
The half of a continent could not be kept as a buffalo pasture and 
hunting-ground.' Reviewing the situation many years later, he pro- 
nounces that the decline and disappearance of the Indians has been 
primarily due, not to the wrongs by the whites, but to their innate 
savagery, their mutual slaughter, the ravages of disease, stimulated 
by unsanitary conditions ; and, especially, the increased destructive- 
ness of their inter-tribal wars, after they had obtained fire-arms from 
the whites. His account of the complaints laid before the Commis- 
sioners shows that there were real and many wrongs on the part of 
the whites. To one story of a wanton murder, and the comment, 
' Those things I tell you to show you that the pale-faces have done 
wrong as well as the Indians,' that stout old veteran of the Plains, 
General Harney, replied: 'That 's so, the Indians are a great deal 
better than we are.' But of the broad purpose of the Government, 
and the spirit in which the Commission acted, Stanley writes : ' These 
letters describe the great efforts made by the United States Govern- 
ment to save the unfortunate Indians from the consequences of 
their own rash acts. The speeches of General Hancock and General 
Sherman and the Peace Commissioners faithfully reflect the senti- 
ments of the most cultivated Americans towards them, and are 
genuine exhortations to the Indians to stand aside from the over- 



WEST AND EAST 227 

whelming wave of white humanity which is resistlessly rolling 
towards the Pacific, and to take refuge on the Reservations, where 
they will be fed, clothed, protected, and educated in the arts of 
industry and Christian and civilised principles.' The replies of the 
Indian chiefs no less faithfully reflect their proud contempt of dan- 
ger, and betray, in many instances, a consciousness of the sad destiny 
awaiting them. 

In all this, Stanley was unconsciously acquiring a preliminary 
lesson in dealing with savage races. The tone in which Sherman, 
Henderson, and Commissioner Taylor, spoke to the Indians, now 
as to warriors, now as to children, gave hints which, later, Stanley 
put to good use. And the experience of the Indians suggests a 
parallel with that of the Congo natives as each met the whites. The 
wise and generous purposes of men like Sherman and Taylor, as 
afterwards of Stanley, were woefully impeded in their execution by 
the less fine temper of their subordinates. 

And now, from the West, Stanley goes to the East. The point of 
departure is given in the Journal. 

January 1st, 1868. Last year was mainly spent by me in 
the western Territories, as a special correspondent of the 
' Missouri Democrat,' and a contributor to several journals, 
such as the 'New York Herald,' 'Tribune,' 'Times,' 'Chicago 
Republican,' 'Cincinnati Commercial,' and others. From the 
* Democrat' I received fifteen dollars per week, and expenses 
of travel ; but, by my contributions to the other journals, I 
have been able to make on an average ninety dollars per week, 
as my correspondence was of public interest, being the records 
of the various expeditions against the warlike Indians of the 
plains. By economy and hard work, though now and then 
foolishly impulsive, I have been able to save three thousand 
dollars, that is, six hundred pounds. Hearing of the British 
expedition to Abyssinia, and as the Indian troubles have 
ceased, I ventured at the beginning of December last to 
throw up my engagement with the 'Democrat,' proceeded 
to Cincinnati and Chicago, and collected my dues, which 
were promptly paid to me ; and in two cases, especially the 
' Chicago Republican,' most handsomely. 

I then came over to New York, and the ' Tribune* and 
'Times' likewise paid me well. John Russell Young, the 
Editor of the New York 'Tribune,' was pleased to be very 
complimentary, and said he was sorry he knew of nothing 
else in which he could avail himself of the services of 'such an 



228 HENRY M. STANLEY 

indefatigable correspondent.' Bowing my thanks, I left the 
'Tribune,' and proceeded to the 'Herald' office; by a spasm 
of courage, I asked for Mr. Bennett. By good luck, my card 
attracted his attention, and I was invited to his presence. I 
found myself before a tall, fierce-eyed, and imperious-looking 
young man, who said, ' Oh, you are the correspondent who 
has been following Hancock and Sherman lately. Well, I 
must say your letters and telegrams have kept us very well 
informed. I wish I could offer you something permanent, for 
we want active men like you.' 

' You are very kind to say so, and I am emboldened to ask 
you if I could not offer myself to you for the Abyssinian 
expedition.' 

' I do not think this Abyssinian expedition is of sufficient 
interest to Americans, but on what terms would you go ? ' 

' Either as a special at a moderate salary, or by letter. Of 
course, if you pay me by the letter, I should reserve the 
liberty to write occasional letters to other papers.' 

' We do not like to share our news that way ; but we would 
be willing to pay well for exclusive intelligence. Have you 
ever been abroad before?' 

* Oh, yes. I have travelled in the East, and been to Europe 
several times.' 

'Well, how would you like to do this on trial? Pay your 
own expenses to Abyssinia, and if your letters are up to the 
standard, and your intelligence is early and exclusive, you 
shall be well paid by the letter, or at the rate by which we 
engage our European specials, and you will be placed on the 
permanent list.' 

' Very well, Sir. I am at your service, any way you like.' 

' When do you intend to start?' 

'On the 22nd, by the steamer "Hecla."' 

'That is the day after to-morrow. Well, consider it ar- 
ranged. Just wait a moment while I write to our agent in 
London.' 

In a few minutes he had placed in my hands a letter to 
' Colonel Finlay Anderson, Agent of the " New York Herald," 
The Queen's Hotel, St. Martin's Le Grand, London'; and 
thus I became what had been an object of my ambition, a 
regular, I hope, correspondent of the ' New York Herald.* 



WEST AND EAST 229 

On the 22nd, in the morning, I received letters of introduc- 
tion from Generals Grant and Sherman, which I telegraphed 
for, and they probably will be of some assistance among 
the military officers on the English expedition. A few hours 
later, the mail steamer left. I had taken a draft on London 
for three hundred pounds, and had left the remainder in the 
bank. 

The letters to the ' New York Herald,' narrating the Abyssinian 
campaign, were afterwards elaborated into permanent form, the last 
half of Stanley's book, ' Coomassie and Magdala.' The campaign has 
become a chapter of history ; the detention of Consul Cameron by 
the tyrannical King Theodore, of Abyssinia, continued for years; 
the imprisonment and abuse of other officers and missionaries, to the 
number of sixty ; the fruitless negotiations for their release ; the de- 
spatch from India of a little army of English and Punjabis, under 
Sir Robert Napier, afterwards Lord Napier, of Magdala ; the march- 
ing columns of six thousand men, with as many more to hold the sea- 
coast, and the line of communication ; the slow advance for months 
through country growing more wild and mountainous, up to a height 
of ten thousand feet; Napier's patient diplomacy with chiefs and 
tribes already chafing against Theodore's cruelties; the arrival 
before the stronghold; the sudden impetuous charge of the King's 
force ; the quick repulse of men armed with spears and match-locks 
before troops handling rocket-guns, Sniders, and Enfields ; the sur- 
render of the captives, and their appearance among their deliverers ; 
the spectacle of three hundred bodies of lately-massacred prisoners ; 
the next day's assault and capture of the town ; Theodore shot by 
his own hand ; the return to the coast : all this Stanley shared and 
told. 

His telling, in its final form,^ has for setting an account of ante- 
cedent events, the early success and valour of Theodore, his degen- 
eracy, the queer interchange of courtesies and mutual puzzlements 
between Downing Street and Magdala, and the organisation of 
the rescue force. These historical prefaces were characteristic of 
Stanley's books ; the story of what he saw had an illuminating back- 
ground of what had gone before, worked out by assiduous study. 
The record of the campaign is told with plentiful illustration of 
grand and novel landscape, of barbaric ways, of traits in his com- 
panions. There is a pervading tone of high spirits and abounding 
vitality. At first looked at a little askance, as an American, by the 
other correspondents, he soon got on very good terms with them. 
'Their mess,' he writes, ' was the most sociable in the army, as well 
as the most loveable and good-tempered' ; and he names the London 
correspondents, individually, as his personal friends. Lord Napier 
was courteous, and gave him the same privileges as his English col- 
* See Stanley's Coomassie and Magdala. 



230 HENRY M. STANLEY 

leagues. With the officers, too, he got on well. There is occasional 
humorous mention in the book, and more fully in the Journal, of 
a certain captain whose tent he shared for a while, and whom he 
names 'Smelfungus,' after Sterne; he might have been dubbed 
'Tartarin de Tarascon,' for he was a braggadocio, sportsman, and 
warrior, whose romances first puzzled, and then amused, Stanley, 
until he learned that a severe wound, and a sun-stroke, had pro- 
duced these obscurations in a sensible and gallant fellow. 

As a correspondent he scored a marked success, for which he had 
good fortune, as well as his own pains, to thank. On his way out, 
he had made private arrangements with the chief of the telegraph 
office, at Suez, about transmitting his despatches. * My telegrams,* 
he notes in the Journal, ' are to be addressed to him, and he will 
undertake that there shall be no delay in sending them to London, 
for which services I am to pay handsomely if, on my return, I hear 
that there had been no delay.' This foresight was peculiarly char- 
acteristic of Stanley. On the return march, he could not get per- 
mission to send an advance courier with his despatches; these 
had to go in the same bag which carried the official and the other 
press bulletins. In the Red Sea, the steamer stuck aground for four 
days ; and, under the broiling heat, an exchange of chaff between 
a colonel and captain generated wrath and a prospective duel ; 
Stanley's mediation was accepted ; reconciliation, champagne, and 
— Suez at last ; but only to face five days of quarantine ! Stanley 
manages to get a long despatch ashore, to his friend in the telegraph 
office. It is before all the others, and is hurried off; then the cable 
between Alexandria and Malta breaks, and for weeks not another 
word can pass! Stanley's despatch brings to London the only news 
of Theodore's overthrow. Surprise, incredulity, denunciations of 
the ' Herald ' and its ' imposture,' — then conviction, and accept- 
ance ! Stanley had won his place in the world's front rank of corre- 
spondents! He notes in his Journal, 'Alexandria, June 28th, 1868. 
I am now a permanent employee of the " Herald," and must keep a 
sharp look-out that my second "coup " shall be as much of a success 
as the first. I wonder where I shall be sent to next.' 

He was sent to examine the Suez Canal, which he found giving 
promise of completion within a year. Then, on to Crete, to describe 
the insurrection; and here he found no startling public news, but 
met with a personal experience which may be given in full. 

The Island of Syra, Greece, August 20th, 1868. Christo 
Evangelides seems desirous of cultivating my acquaintance. 
He has volunteered to be my conductor through Hermopolis. 
As he speaks English, and is a genial soul, and my happiness 
is to investigate, I have cordially accepted his services. He 
first took me on a visit of call to Mrs. Julia Ward Howe, of 
Boston, and then to the Greek seminary, where I saw some 



WEST AND EAST 231 

young Greeks with features not unworthy of the praise com- 
monly ascribed to Greek beauty. On the way to the Square, 
Evangelides, observing my favourable impressions, took ad- 
vantage of my frank admiration and suggested that I should 
marry a Greek girl. Up to this moment it never had entered 
my mind that it must be some day my fate to select a wife. 
Rapidly my mind revolved this question. To marry requires 
means, larger means than I have. My twelve hundred 
pounds would soon be spent; and on four hundred pounds 
a year, and that depending on the will of one man, it would 
be rash to venture with an extravagant woman. Yet the 
suggestion was delicious from other points of view. A wife ! 
My wife! How grand the proprietorship of a fair woman 
appeared ! To be loved with heart and soul above all else, for 
ever united in thought and sympathy with a fair and vir- 
tuous being, whose very touch gave strength and courage and 
confidence ! Oh dear ! how my warm imagination glows at the 
strange idea ! 

Evangelides meanwhile observes me, and cunningly touches 
the colours of my lively fancy, becomes eloquent upon Greek 
beauty, the virtues, and the constant affections of Greek 
women. 'But, how is it possible for a wanderer like myself 
to have the opportunity of meeting such a creature as you 
describe? I have no resting-place, and no home; I am here 
to-day, and off to-morrow. It is not likely that a man can 
become so infatuated with a woman at a glance, or that she 
would follow a stranger to the church, and risk her happi- 
ness at a nod. Why will you distract a poor fellow with your 
raptures upon the joy of marriage?' And much else, with 
breathless haste, I retorted. 

I looked at Evangelides and saw his age to be great, beard 
white as snow, though his face was unwrinkled. Swiftly, I 
tried to dive beneath that fair exterior, and, somehow, I com- 
pared him to a Homer, or some other great classic, who loved 
to be the cicerone of youth, and took no note of his own 
years. The charm of Hellas fell upon me, and I yielded a 
patient hearing to the fervid words, and all discretion fled, 
despite inward admonitions to beware of rashness. 

He said he would be my proxy, and would choose a damsel 
worthy of every praise for beauty and for character. Like one 



232 HENRY M. STANLEY 

who hoped and yet doubted, believed and yet suspected, 
I said : ' Very well, if you can show me such a girl as you 
describe, I will use my best judgement, and tell you later 
what I think of her.' And so it was agreed. 

In the evening I walked in the Square with Evangelides, 
who suddenly asked me what I thought of his own daughter. 
Calliope. Though sorely tempted to laugh, I did not, but said 
gravely that I thought she was too old for me. The fact is, 
Calliope is not a beauty; and though she is only nineteen 
according to her father, yet she is not one to thaw my reserve. 

August 2 1st. This morning Evangelides proposed his 
daughter in sober, serious earnest, and it required, in order 
not to offend, very guarded language to dispel any such 
strange illusion. Upon my soul, this is getting amusing ! It is 
scarcely credible that a father would be so indifferent to his 
daughter's happiness as to cast her upon the first stranger he 
meets. What is there in me that urges him to choose me for 
a son-in-law ? Though he claims to be a rich man, I do not 
think he has sufficient hundreds to induce me to entertain the 
offer. My liberty is more precious than any conceivable 
amount of gold. 

August 22nd. Rode out during the morning into the coun- 
try beyond Hermopolis, and crossed the mountains to the 
village of Analion. I was delighted with all I saw, the evi- 
dences of rural industry, the manifest signs of continuous and 
thoughtful care of property, the necessity for strictest eco- 
nomy, and unceasing toil, to make both ends meet, the beauty 
of the stainless sky, and the wide view of dark blue sea, which 
lay before me on every side. If it was calculated on the part 
of Evangelides, he could scarcely have done anything better 
than propose this ride; for what I saw during the ride, by 
recalling all I had read of Greece, made Greek things particu- 
larly dear to me. When I returned to the town, I quite under- 
stood Byron's passion for Hellas. 

In the evening Evangelides walked with me on a visit to 
a family which lived on another side of the Square. We were 
received by a very respectable old gentleman in sober black, 
and a stout lady who, in appearance, dress, and surroundings, 
showed that she studied comfort. Evangelides seemed to be 
on good terms with them, and they all bandied small change of 



WEST AND EAST 233 

gossip in a delightfully frank and easy manner. Presently, 
into the sitting-room glided a young lady who came as near as 
possible to the realisation of the ideal which my fancy had 
portrayed, after the visions of marriage had been excited by 
Evangelides's frolicsome talk. She, after a formal introduction, 
subsided on a couch, demure, and wrapped in virgin modesty. 

Her name was Virginia, and well it befitted her. Where had 
I seen her face, or whom did she recall ? My memory fled over 
scores of faces and pictures, and instantly I bethought me of 
the Empress Eugenie when she was the Countess Montijo. 
A marvellous likeness in profile and style! She, is about six- 
teen, and, if she can speak English, who knows? Simultane- 
ously with the drift of my thoughts, Evangelides in the easiest 
manner led the conversation with the seniors to marriage of 
young people. He was so pointed that I became uneasy. My 
face began to burn as I felt the allusions getting personal. 
Jove ! what a direct people these Greeks are ! Not a particle 
of reserve! No shilly-shallying, or beating about the bush, 
but, 'I say, is your daughter ripe for marriage? If so, here is 
a fine young fellow quite ready.' 

Evangelides was nearly as plain as this. Then the mother 
turned to me, and asked, 'Are you married?' 

' Heaven forbid ! ' said I. 

'Why?' she said, smiling, with proud consciousness of 
superior knowledge on her face. * Is marriage so dreadful ? ' 

'I am sure T don't know, but I have not thought of the 
subject.* 

* Oh, well, I hope you will think of it now ; there are many 
fair women in Greece; and Greek women make the best 
wives.' 

* I am quite ready to believe you, and if I met a young 
Greek lady who thought as much of me as I of her, I might 
be tempted to sacrifice my independence,' I answered, more 
with a view to avoid an awkward silence than with a desire to 
keep up such a terribly personal conversation with strangers. 

' I am sure,' said the lady, ' if you look around, you will find 
a young lady after your heart.' 

I bowed, but my face was aflame. 

With astonishing effrontery Evangelides maintained the 
pointed conversation until I saw my own uneasiness reflected 



234 HENRY M. STANLEY 

in Virginia's face, who grew alternately crimson and pale. 
Both colours agreed with her, and I pitied her distress, and 
frowned on Evangelides, who, however, was incorrigible. 
Then I began to ask myself, was this really Greek custom, or 
was it merely a frantic zeal on Evangelides's part ? Was this 
the Siren's Isle, wherein the famed Ulysses was so bewitched, 
or was the atmosphere of the Cyclades fatal to bachelorhood ? 
It would never do to tell in detail all I thought, or give all my 
self-questionings; but, ever and anon in my speculations, I 
stole a glance at Virginia's face, and each glance started other 
queries. * Is this to be a farcical adventure, or shall it be 
serious ? I felt that only the mute maiden could answer such 
a question. Susceptible and romantic I know I am, but it 
requires more than a pretty face to rouse passionate love. 

We rose to go, each protesting that we had passed a pleasant 
evening. The lady of the house promises, half-seriously, to 
find a nice wife for me. * Do,' say I, * and I will be eternally 
grateful. Good-bye, Miss Virginia.' 

* Good-bye,' she says timidly, blushing painfully. 

I note she has a French accent. I find she only knows a 
few words of English, but she is fluent in French. Here then 
comes another obstacle. I could make no love in French, 
without exploding at my own ignorance of it. But there is no 
doubt that, so far as beauty goes, Virginia is sufficient. 

September 9th. After a short absence, I have returned. 
Evangelides welcomed me eff^usively. Passed the evening 
with Virginia's family. There were two brothers of Virginia's, 
fine young fellows, present, and a sister. It was clear that my 
letter had been a subject of family discussion, for every eye 
was marked by a more discerning glance than would have been 
noticeable otherwise. Even on the little girl's face I read, ' I 
wonder if he will suit me as a brother-in-law.' I wished I could 
say to her, * So far as you and Virginia are concerned, I do not 
think you will have cause for regret.' On the whole, the ordeal 
was not unsatisfactory. I was conscious that Virginia was 
favourable. No decision has been arrived at yet, but I feel that 
where there are so many heads in council, father, mother, 
brothers, relatives, friends, and Evangelides, there must be a 
deal to debate. 

September loth. A friend of the family came into my room 



WEST AND EAST 235 

this afternoon, and was, in features, voice, and conduct, in- 
fectiously congratulatory. He told me that the marriage was 
as good as concluded, that I had only to name the day. I 
gasped, and with good reason. Here was an event which 
I had always considered as sacred, mysterious, requiring pe- 
culiar influences and circumstances to bring within range of 
possibilities, so imminent, that it depended only on my own 
wish. Incredulous, I asked, 'But are you certain?* 

* As certain as I am alive. I have only just left them, and 
came expressly to enquire your wishes in the matter.' 

Feeling that retreat was as undesirable as it would be of- 
fensive, I replied, 'Then, of course, as my business admits 
of no delay, I should like the marriage to take place next 
Sunday.' 

'All right,' he said, 'next Sunday will suit us perfectly.* 
And he left me quivering, almost, and certainly agitated. 

In the evening I visited the house. I was allowed to see 
Virginia, and, in a short time, whatever misgivings I may 
have had as to the wisdom of my act were banished by the 
touch of her hand, and the trust visible in her eyes. There 
was no doubt as to her ultimate responsiveness to the height 
and depth of love. As yet, naturally, there was no love ; but 
it was budding, and, if allowed to expand, there would be no 
flaw in the bloom. If I know myself at all, I think that my 
condition was much the same. AH that I knew of her I ad- 
mired; and, if she were as constant in goodness as she was 
beautiful, there would be no reason to regret having been so 
precipitate. 

From these rapid reflections I was recalled by the mother's 
remarks, which in a short time satisfied me that the marriage 
was not so positively determined upon as I had been led to 
believe that afternoon. As she went on I perceived it was 
not settled at all. The same fear I had felt, of committing an 
imprudence, was swaying her. She said that I was quite a 
stranger, of whose antecedents everyone in Syra was quite 
ignorant, and she was therefore obliged to ask me to have 
patience until all reasonable assurances had been given that 
I was what I represented myself to be. 

The wisdom of this act I could not but applaud. The 
mother was just and prudent, and my respect for her increased. 



236 HENRY M. STANLEY 

Still, it was tantalising. My decision to marry, though so 
quickly arrived at, cost me a struggle and some grief. My 
independence I valued greatly. Freedom was so precious to 
me. To be able to wander where I liked, at a moment's 
thought, with only a portmanteau to look after, I should not 
have bartered for a fortune. But now, after looking into the 
face of such a sweet girl as Virginia, and seeing her readiness 
to be my companion, for better, or for worse, and believing 
that she would not hinder my movements, the disagreeability 
of being wedded had been removed, and I had been brought 
to look upon the event as rather desirable. 

'Well, so be it,' I said; 'though I am sorry, and perhaps 
you may be sorry, but I cannot deny that you are just and 
wise.* 

September nth. I gave a dinner to the family at the 
Hotel d'Amerique. Virginia was present, lovelier than ever. 
It is well that I go away shortly, for I feel that she is a trea- 
sure ; and my admiration, if encouraged, would soon be con- 
verted into love, and if once I love, I am lost ! However, the 
possibility of losing her serves to restrain me. 

September 12th. Dined with Virginia's family. I had the 
honour of being seated near her. We exchanged regards, but 
we both felt more than we spoke. We are convinced that we 
could be happy together, if it is our destiny to be united. 
Toasts were drunk, etc., etc. Afterwards, Virginia exhibited 
her proficiency on the piano, and sang French and Greek 
sentimental songs. She is an accomplished musician, beauti- 
ful and amiable. She is in every way worthy. 

September 13th. Left Syra for Smyrna by the ' Menzaleh.' 
Virginia was quite affectionate, and, though I am outwardly 
calm, my regrets are keener at parting than I expected. 
However, what must be, must be. 

September 26th. Received answer from London that I am 
to go to Barcelona, via Marseilles, and wire for instructions 
on reaching France. 

September 27th. Wrote a letter to Evangelides and Vir- 
ginia's mother, that they must not expect my return to Syra 
unless they all came to a positive decision, and expressly 
invited me, as it would be an obvious inconvenience, and 
likely to be resented at headquarters. 



CHAPTER XII 
A ROVING COMMISSION 

SO the fair Greek disappears; and Stanley, free and heart- 
whole, is whirled away again by the 'Herald's' swift and 
changing summons : to Athens, to witness a Royal Baptism, 
and describe the temples and ruins, with which he was enraptured ; 
to Smyrna, Rhodes, Beyrout, and Alexandria ; thence to Spain, 
where great events seemed impending. But he has barely inter- 
viewed General Prim, when he is ordered to London; there the 
' Herald's ' agent, Colonel Finlay Anderson, gives him a surprising 
commission. 

It is vaguely reported that Dr. Livingstone is on his way home- 
ward from Africa. On the chance of meeting him, and getting the 
first intelligence, Stanley is to go to Aden, and use his discretion 
as to going to Zanzibar. It looks like a wild-goose chase, but his, 
* not to make reply ; his, not to reason why ' ; and he is off to Aden, 
which he reaches November 21, 1868. Not a word can he learn of 
Livingstone. He writes enquiries to Consul Webb at Zanzibar, and, in 
the wretched and sun-scorched little town, sets himself to wait ; but 
not in idleness. He works the Magdala campaign into book-form, 
designing in some indefinite future to publish it. (It came out five 
years later.) Then he falls upon ' a pile of good books which my 
interesting visit to Greece and Asia Minor induced me to purchase — 
Josephus, Herodotus, Plutarch, Derby's " Iliad," Dryden's "Virgil," 
some few select classics of Bohn's Library, Wilkinson's and Lane's 
books on " Egypt," hand-books to Greece, the Levant, and India, 
Kilpert's maps of Asia Minor, etc. Worse heat, worse dust, and still 
no word of Livingstone ! ' 

New Year's Day, 1869. Many people have greeted me, and 
expressed their wish that it should be a happy one, and that I 
should see many more such days. They were no doubt sin- 
cere, but what avail their wishes, and what is happiness? 
What a curious custom it is, to take this day, above all others, 
to speak of happiness, when inwardly each must think in his 
soul that it admonishes him of the lapse of time, and what 
enormous arrears there still remain to make up the sum of his 
happiness ! 

As for me, I know not what I lack to make me happy. I 



238 HENRY M. STANLEY 

have health, youth, and a free spirit; but, what to-morrow 
may bring forth, I cannot tell. Therefore, take care to keep 
that health. The knowledge that every moment makes me 
older, the fluctuations to which the spirit is subject, hour by 
hour, for ever remind me that happiness is not to be secured 
in this world, except for brief periods; and, for a houseless, 
friendless fellow like myself, those periods when we cast off 
all thought which tends to vex the mind cannot, by any pos- 
sibility, be frequent. But, if to be happy is to be without 
sorrow, fear, anxiety, doubt, I have been happy; and, if I 
could find an island in mid-ocean, remote from the presence 
or reach of man, with a few necessaries sufficient to sustain 
life, I might be happy yet ; for then I could forget what re- 
minds me of unhappiness, and, when death came, I should 
accept it as a long sleep and rest. 

But, as this wish of mine cannot be gratified, I turn to what 
many will do to-day; meditate; think with regret of all the 
things left undone that ought to have been done; of words 
said that ought not to have been uttered; of vile thoughts 
that stained the mind ; and resolve, with God's help, to be 
better, nobler, purer. May Heaven assist all who wish the 
same, and fill their hearts with goodness ! 

January 7th, 1869. Six days of this New Year are already 
gone, and one of the resolutions which I made on the first day 
I have been compelled to break. I had mentally resolved to 
smoke no more, from a belief that it was a vice, and that it 
was my duty to suppress it. For six days I strove against 
the hankering, though the desire surged up strongly. To-day 
I have yielded to it, as the effort to suppress it absorbed 
too much of my time, and now I promise myself that I shall 
be moderate, in order to soothe the resentment of my mon- 
itor. 

Still no news of Livingstone, and scant hope of any! Stanley 
critically examines Aden ; notes its unfortified condition, its import- 
ance when once the Suez Canal is finished ; and sketches its future 
possibilities as a great distributing centre, and the case of a cheap 
railway into the heart of Arabia. 

After ten weeks at Aden, February ist, *I am relieved, at last! ' 
And so he turns his back on Livingstone, who is still deep in the wilds 
of Africa. As he mixes with civilised men in his travels, he is sometimes 
struck by their triviality, sometimes by their malicious gossip. 



A ROVING COMMISSION 239 

February 9th, 1869. At Alexandria. Dined with G. D. and 

his wife. Among the guests was one named J . This 

young man is a frequent diner here, and the gossips of Alex- 
andria tell strange things. Truly the English, with all their 
Christianity, and morals, and good taste, and all that sort of 
thing, are to be dreaded for their propensity to gossip, for it 
is always malicious and vile. Oh, how I should like to discover 
my island, and be free of them ! 

Apropos of this, it reminds me of my journey to Suez last 
November. Two handsome young fellows, perhaps a year or 
so younger than myself, were fellow-passengers in the same 
coupe. They were inexperienced and shy. I was neither the 
one, nor, with the pride of age, was I the other. I had pro- 
vided myself with a basket of oranges and a capacious cooler. 
They had not; and when we came abreast of the dazzling 
sands, and to the warm, smothering mirage, and the fine sand 
came flying stinging hot against the face, they were obliged 
to unbutton and mop their faces, and they looked exceedingly 
uncomfortable. Then it was that I conquered my reserve, 
and spoke, and offered oranges, water, sandwiches, etc. 

Their shyness vanished, they ate and laughed and enjoyed 
themselves, and I with them. The pipes and cigars came next, 
and, being entertainer, as it were, I did my best for the sake of 
good fellowship, and I talked of Goshen, Pithom,^ and Ram- 
eses, Moses' Wells, and what not. We came at last to Suez, 
and, being known at the hotel, I was at once served with a 
room. While I was washing, I heard voices. I looked up ; my 
room was separated from the next by an eight-foot partition. 
In the next room were my young friends of the journey, and 
they were speaking of me ! Old is the saying that ' listen- 
ers hear no good of themselves ' ; but, had I been a leper or a 
pariah, I could not have been more foully and slanderously 
abused. 

This is the third time within fourteen months that I have 
known Englishmen, who, after being polite to my face, had 
slandered me behind my back. Yes, this soulless gossip is to 
be dreaded ! I have learned that if they entertain me with 
gossip about someone else, they are likely enough to convey 
to somebody else similar tales about me. 

* A city of Egypt mentioned in Exodus i, ii, along with Rameses. 



240 HENRY M. STANLEY 

In the enforced leisure of a Mediterranean trip comes a piece of 
self -observation. 

February 20th, 1869. At sea, under a divine heaven ! There 
is a period which marks the transition from boy to man, when 
the boy discards his errors and his awkwardness, and puts 
on the man's mask, and adopts his ways. The duration of 
the period depends upon circumstances, and not upon any 
defined time. With me, it lasted some months ; and, though I 
feel in ideas more manly than when I left the States, I am often 
reminded that I am still a boy in many things. In impulse 
I am boy-like, but in reflection a man ; and then I condemn 
the boy-like action, and make a new resolve. How many of 
these resolutions will be required before they are capable of 
restraining, not only the impulse, but the desire, when every 
action will be the outcome of deliberation? I am still a boy 
when I obey my first thought; the man takes that thought 
and views it from many sides before action. I have not come 
to that yet; but after many a struggle I hope to succeed. 
' Days should speak, and a multitude of years should teach 
wisdom.' 

It is well for me that I am not so rich as the young man I met 
at Cairo who has money enough to indulge every caprice. I 
thank Heaven for it, for if he be half as hot-blooded and im- 
pulsive as I am, surely his life will be short ; but necessity has 
ordained that my strength and youth should be directed by 
others, and in a different sphere ; and the more tasks I receive, 
the happier is my life. I want work, close, absorbing, and con- 
genial work, only so that there will be no time for regrets, and 
vain desires, and morbid thoughts. In the interval, books 
come handy. I have picked up Helvetius and Zimmerman, in 
Alexandria, and, though there is much wisdom in them, they 
are ill-suited to young men with a craze for action. 

And now he is back at headquarters in London, and gets his 
orders for Spain ; and there he spends six months, March to Septem- 
ber, 1869, describing various scenes of the revolution, and the gen- 
eral aspect of the country, in a graphic record. These letters are 
among the best of his descriptive writings. The Spanish scenery 
and people ; the stirring events ; the barricades and street-fighting ; 
the leaders and the typical characters ; the large issues at stake — 
all make a great and varied theme. 



A ROVING COMMISSION 241 

On arriving in Spain, Stanley commenced studying Spanish, 
with such success, that, by June, he was able to make a speech in 
Spanish, and became occasional correspondent to a Spanish news- 
paper. 

The Insurrection of September, 1868, which drove Isabella from 
the Throne, led to a provisional Government under a Regency, 
General Prim acting as Minister of War. 

On June 15, 1869, Stanley was present in the Plaza de Los 
Cortes when the Constitution was read to twenty thousand people, 
who roared their 'vivas.' 

Stanley was in the prime of his powers, and these powers were 
not, as afterwards in Africa, taxed by heavy responsibilities, and 
ceaseless executive work, but given solely to a faithful and vivid 
chronicle of what he saw. ' I went to Spain,' he wrote, * the young 
man going to take possession of the boy's heritage, those dear dreams 
of wild romance, stolen from school-hours.' 

When a Carlist rising threatened, hundreds of miles away, Stan- 
ley immediately hastened off to the scene. On one occasion, he hur- 
ried from Madrid in search of the rebellious Carlists, who were said 
■to have risen at Santa Cruz de Campescu. ' As soon as I reached the 
old town of yittoria, I took my seat in the diligence for Santa Cruz 
de Campescu ; our road lay westward towards the Atlantic through 
the valley of Zadora. If you have read Napier's " Battles of the 
Peninsula," you can well imagine how interesting each spot, each 
foot of ground, was to me. This valley was a battle-field, where the 
armed legions of Portugal, Spain, and England, matched themselves 
against Joseph Buonaparte's French Army.' 

At Santa Cruz, Stanley found the insurrectionists had fled to the 
mountains, leaving forty prisoners; he returned to Madrid, to join 
General Sickles and his suite, on a visit to the Palace of La Granja, 
called the ' Cloud Palace of the King of Spain.' 

He hears in Madrid, one evening, that several battalions and regi- 
ments had been despatched towards Saragossa. ' Naturally I wanted 
to know what was going on there. What did the departure of all these 
troops to Saragossa mean? So one hour later, at 8.30 p. M., I took 
the train, and arrived at Saragossa the next morning at 6 A. M.' 

And here Stanley witnessed a rising of the people, 'proud and 
passionate, the Berber and Moorish blood coursing through their 
veins.' They resisted the order to give up arms. ' Then, with their 
bayonets, they prise up the granite blocks, and, with the swiftness 
of magic, erect a barricade, formidable, wide, a granite and cobble- 
stone fortification, breast-high. One, two, three, four, and five, aye, 
ten barricades are thrown up, almost as fast as tongue can count 
them. ' My eye,' says Stanley, ' finds enough to note ; impossible to 
note the whole, for there are a hundred things and a thousand things 
taking place. Carts are thrown on the summit of the barricades; 
cabs caught unawares are launched on high, sofas and bureaux and 
the strangest kind of obstructions are piled above all.* 



242 HENRY M. STANLEY 

Stanley himself was on a balcony, not within the barricade, but 
half a block outside. He saw a battery of mounted trained Artillery 
halt live hundred yards from where he stood. He watched them 
dismount the guns and prepare for action ; and was present at the 
bursting and rending of shells and the ceaseless firing of musketry 
from the barricades. 

' As the bullets flattened themselves with a dull thud against the 
balcony where I stood, I sought the shelter of the roof, and behind 
a friendly cornice, I observed the desperate fighting.' 

Though the firing had been incessant for an hour, little damage 
had been done to the barricade. The soldiers, advancing at short 
range, were shot down ; again the Artillery thundered, and, when the 
smoke dispersed, Stanley saw the soldiers had approached nearer. 
'The scene was one of desperation against courage allied with a 
certain cold enthusiasm ; as fast as one soldier fell, another took his 
place. I witnessed personal instances of ferocity and courage which 
made me hold my breath. To me — who was, I really believe, the 
sole disinterested witness of that terrible battle — they appeared 
like characters suddenly called out to perform in some awful tra- 
gedy ; and, so fascinated was I by the strange and dreadful specta- 
cle, I could not look away.' 

Night fell, and the bugles sounded retreat ; the soldiers had lost 
heart after three hours' persistent fighting, with nothing gained. 
The dead lay piled at the barricades. Stanley remained on the roof 
until he was chilled and exhausted; he had been awake thirty- 
nine hours. * I retired for a couple of hours' rest, completely fatigued, 
yet with the determination to be up before daylight ; and, by five 
in the morning, I was at my post of observation on the roof.' 

Stanley graphically described the scene behind the barricade, 
before the battle recommenced. Fresh troops now arrived, former 
failure was to be avenged. Again they hurl themselves on the bar- 
ricades ; ' but they are thrust back by protruding bayonets, they are 
beaten down by clubbed muskets, they are laid low by hundreds 
of deadly bullets, which are poured on them; but, with fearless 
audacity, the Regulars climb over their own dead and wounded, and 
throw themselves over the barricades into the smoke of battle, to be 
hewed to death for their temerity.' 

This completed the fourth defeat the Government troops experi- 
enced, and in the greatest disorder they ran towards the Corso; 
while the ' Vivas ' to the Republic were deafening. * The Artillery 
re-open fire with grape, shell, and solid shot, and once more the 
old city of Saragossa quivers to its foundations. Another battalion 
has been added, and nearly six hundred men are found before the 
breast-works.' 

The rear ranks were impelled electrically forward, and bodily 
heaved over the front ranks, quite into the barricades; others 
crowded on, a multitude bounded over, as if swept on by a hurri- 
cane, and the first barricade was taken, the insurgents threw down 



A ROVING COMMISSION 243 

their arms, fell down on their knees, and cried for * quarter.' Thus 
was Saragossa quelled and a thousand prisoners taken. ' The valour 
and heroism of the insurgents, will, I fancy, have been chronicled 
solely by me, because the Government won the day, as they were 
bound to do.' 

Stanley now hastened to Valencia, * from whence came reports of 
fierce cannonading ; it was not in my nature to sit with folded arms, 
and let an important event, like that, pass without personal investi- 
gation.' 

He was told he could not go, the trains did not run, miles of rail- 
way had been destroyed. * Can I telegraph ? — No — Why? — No 
telegrams are allowed to pass by order of the Minister of War. — 
Heigh-ho ! to Alicante, then ! — Thence by sea to Valencia. I '11 cir- 
cumnavigate Spain ! but I shall get to Valencia ! I exclude all words 
like "fail," "can't," from my vocabulary.' 

Stanley had great difficulty, and many adventures, before he got, 
by sea, into Valencia, and found himself amid the roar of guns and 
the whiz of bullets. 

He wandered from street to street, always confronted by soldiers 
with fixed bayonets, until, at last, he saw a chance of getting into an 
hotel ; but he had to run the gauntlet of twenty feet of murderous 
firing. Officers remonstrated against the folly. * But twenty feet ! 
Count three and jump! I jumped, took one peep at the barricade 
in my mid-air flight, and was in the hotel portico, safe, with a chorus 
of "bravos" in my rear, and a welcome in front.' 

But how can I give samples of Stanley's vivid word-painting ; it 
is like snipping off a corner of a great historical picture. The fore- 
going passages, however, will suffice to show how Stanley's whole 
being throbbed with energy, and with the desire to excel. 

Sometimes he rides all night, in order to reach betimes a remote 
place, where fighting is reported ; he watches the stirring scenes all 
day, and reports his observations before taking rest. 

Extracts from one or two private letters are given here. One was 
written to a friend who pressed him to take a holiday. 

Madrid, June 27, 1869. 
You know my peculiar position, you know who, what, and 
where I am ; you know that I am not master of my own 
actions, that I am at the beck and call of a chief whose will 
is imperious law. The slightest inattention to business, the 
slightest forgetfulness of duty, the slightest laggardness, is 
punished severely; that is, you are sent about your business. 
But I do not mean to be sent about my business. I do not 
mean to be discharged from my position. I mean by atten- 
tion to my business, by self-denial, by indefatigable energy. 



244 HENRY M. STANLEY 

to become, by this very business, my own master, and that 
of others. Hitherto, so well have I performed my duty, sur- 
passing all my contemporaries, that the greatest confidence 
is placed in me. 

I have carte blanche at the bankers' ; I can go to any part of 
Spain I please, that I think best; I can employ a man in my 
absence. This I have done in the short space of eighteen 
months, when others have languished on at their business for 
fifteen years, and got no higher than the step where they 
entered upon duty. How have I done this? By intense ap- 
plication to duty, by self-denial, which means I have denied 
myself all pleasures, so that I might do my duty thoroughly, 
and exceed it. Such has been my ambition. I am fulfilling it. 
Pleasure cannot blind me, it cannot lead me astray from the 
path I have chalked out. I am so much my own master, that 
I am master over my own passions. It is also my interest to 
do my duty well. It is my interest not to throw up my posi- 
tion. My whole life hangs upon it — my future would be 
almost blank, if I threw up my place. You do not — cannot 
suppose that I have accepted this position merely for money. 
I can make plenty of money anywhere — it is that my future 
promotion to distinction hangs upon it. Even now, if I ap- 
plied for it, I could get a consulship, but I do not want a 
consulship — I look further up, beyond a consulship. 

My whole future is risked. Stern duty commands me to 
stay. It is only by railway celerity that I can live. Away 
from work, my conscience accuses me of forgetting duty, of 
wasting time, of forgetting my God. I cannot help that feel- 
ing. It makes me feel as though the world were sliding from 
under my feet. Even if I had a month's holiday, I could not 
take it ; I would be restless, dissatisfied, gloomy, morose. To 
the with a vacation ! I don't want it. 

I have nothing to fall back upon but energy, and much 
hopefulness. But so long as my life lasts, I feel myself so much 
master of my own future, that I can well understand Caesar's 
saying to the sailors, * Nay, be not afraid, for you carry 
Caesar and his fortunes ! ' I could say the same : * My body 
carries Stanley and his fortunes.' With God's help, I shall 
succeed ! 



A ROVING COMMISSION 245 

A telegram called him to Paris, to meet Mr. Bennett in person ; 
and there, October 16, 1869, he received a commission of startling 
proportions. He was to search for Livingstone in earnest, — not for 
an interview, but to discover, and, if necessary, extricate him, wher- 
ever he might be in the heart of Africa. But this was to be only the 
climax of a series of preliminary expeditions. Briefly, these consisted 
of a report of the opening of the Suez Canal ; some observations of 
Upper Egypt, and Baker's expedition; the underground explora- 
tions in Jerusalem; Syrian politics; Turkish politics at Stamboul; 
archaeological explorations in the Crimea; politics and progress in 
the Caucasus; projects of Russia in that region; Trans-Caspian 
affairs ; Persian politics, geography, and present conditions ; a glance 
at India; and, finally, — a search for Livingstone in Equatorial 
Africa ! 

Into this many-branched search for knowledge Stanley now threw 
himself. He carried out the whole programme, up to its last article, 
within the next twelve-month, with as much thoroughness as cir- 
cumstances permitted in each case. The record, as put into final 
shape twenty-five years later, makes a book of 400 pages, the second 
volume of ' My Early Travels and Adventures.' It is impossible even 
to epitomise briefly here the crowded and stirring narrative. The 
observer saw the brilliant pageant of the great flotilla moving for the 
first time in history from the Mediterranean Sea, through the Suez 
Canal, to the Indian Ocean. 

Stanley was present at the ceremony of blessing the Suez Canal. 
On the following day, the 17th November, 1869, he was to see *a 
new route to commerce opened.' The Empress Eugenie, the Em- 
peror of Austria, the Crown Prince of Prussia, and many notabilities 
had arrived. 

'A beautiful morning ushered in the greatest drama ever wit- 
nessed or enacted in Egypt. It is the greatest and last, so far, of 
all the magnificent periods which Egypt has witnessed.' 

At eight o'clock in the morning, the Empress's yacht led the pro- 
cession through the Canal, and Stanley followed, in the steamer 
'Europe.' 

He next went up the Nile, to Upper Egypt, as one of a party of 
seventy invited guests of the Khedive ; ' twenty-three days of most 
exquisite pleasure, unmarred by a single adverse incident.' 

The next part of his programme was to visit Jerusalem, where 
he saw the unearthing of her antique grandeurs, sixty feet under- 
ground. 

Stanley proceeded thence to Constantinople, where he wrote a 
long letter for the 'New York Herald,' on the Crimea; and here he 
met, once more, his kind friend, the American Minister, Mr. Joy 
Morris, who presented him with a beautiful Winchester rifle, and 
gave him letters of introduction to General Ignatieff , General Stole- 
toff, and various Governors and Ministers in Persia. 

Stanley now travelled through the Caucasus, where he found un- 



246 HENRY M. STANLEY 

expected civilisation. He rated highly the advantages which Rus- 
sia's much-censured conquest of the Caucasus had brought in its 
train : warring tribes brought to peace, feuds and mutual slaughter 
stopped, local religions and customs respected, and an end put to 
barbarism and feudality, * which terms are almost synonymous, as 
witness the mountain towers and fortresses, once the terror of the 
country, now silent and crumbling.' 

Tiflis affords as much amusement and comfort as any second- 
rate town or city in Europe. From his Journal are here given one 
or two passages, to illustrate how Stanley observed and judged the 
individuals of his own race and civilisation. 

February 5th, 1870. Reached the Dardanelles at noon. 
One of my fellow- voyagers is the Rev. Dr. Harman, of Mary- 
land, an elderly and large man, who is a marvel of theological 
erudition, a mixture of Jonathan Edwards and the Vicar of 
Wakefield. Most of the morning we had passed classic ground, 
and, as he is a Greek scholar of some repute, his delight was 
so infectious that we soon became warm friends. He also has 
been to Jerusalem, Damascus, and Ephesus, and many other 
places of biblical and classical interest ; and, in a short time, 
with a face shining with enthusiasm, he communicated to me 
many of his impressions and thoughts upon what he had seen, 
as my sympathy was so evident. St. Paul is his favourite ; the 
Seven Churches of Asia, and .the inwardness of the Revela- 
tions, are topics dear to him ; and, perceiving that I was a 
good listener, the dear old gentleman simply ' let himself go,' 
uttering deep and weighty things with a warmth that was 
unexpected. 

His exact words I have already forgotten ; but the picture 
that he made, as he sat clad in sober black on his deck-chair, 
the skirts of his frock-coat touching the deck, his spectacled 
eyes thoughtfully fixed on the distant horizon, while his lips 
expressed the learned lore he had gathered from reading and 
reflection, will be ineffaceable. If I were rich enough, this is 
the type of man whom I should choose for my mentor, until 
the unfixedness of youth had become set in a firm mould. On 
two points only was he inclined to be severe. His Presby- 
terianism could not endure the Pope ; and, had he the power, 
he would like to drive the Padishah and his Turks far away 
into inner Asia, where they belonged. Otherwise, he is one of 
the largest-hearted Christians I have ever met. 



A ROVING COMMISSION 247 

Many-sided in his sensitiveness to the attractions and charms 
of life, there were some aspects against which he was proof. At 
Odessa he fell in with highly congenial English society, and, at 
the close of his visit, he touches on one aspect that repelled, and 
one that attracted him ; the twofold attitude is not unrelated to the 
state of mind the final sentence portrays. 

March 6th. The Carnival was a novel sight to me. It is the 
first I have ever seen, and I thank my stars that it is not my 
fate to see many more such. The mad jollity and abandon 
wherein both sexes seemed agreed to think of nothing but their 
youth and opportunities, positively abashed me ! To decline 
being drawn within the whirl of dissipation, and to discounte- 
nance fair gauzy nymphs who insidiously tempt one to relax 
austere virtue, is not easy ; but the shame of it, more than any 
morality, prevented me from availing myself of the licence. 

At the Cathedral I heard the most glorious vocal music it 
has ever been my lot to hear. There was one voice — a priest's 
— that rang like a clarion through the building, so flawless in 
its rich tones that every heart, I should fancy, was filled with 
admiration ; and when the choir joined in the anthem, and 
filled the entire concave with their burst of harmony, and the 
organ rolled its streams of tremulous sound in unison, I became 
weak as a child, with pure rapture and unstrung nerve ! That 
half -hour in the Cathedral is unforgettable. Whether it is due 
to the air of Odessa, the perfect health I enjoyed, the warm 
hospitality I received, or what, I am inclined to think that for 
once I have known a brief period of ideal pleasure, unmarred 
by a single hour of unhappiness. 

Stanley now travelled along the Russian, Persian, and Turkestan 
coasts, observing the people and noting manners, customs, and 
events. Towards the end of May, 1870, he reached Teheran; his 
description of the Palaces and Bazaars, the Shah and his people, 
are wonderful reading. From Teheran he rode to Ispahan. 

My friends among the English colony at Teheran gave me 
several wise admonitions, among which were, that I was never 
to travel during the day on account of the heat, but to start 
just at sunset, by which I might make two stations before I 
halted ; I was also to look out for myself, as there were numer- 
ous brigands on the road, who would not scruple to strip me of 
everything I possessed. 



248 HENRY M. STANLEY 

I followed their advice for the first few stages ; but, as the 
rocks retain the heat, I think the discomfort of night-travel is 
greater than that of day. Besides, the drowsiness was over- 
powering, and I was constantly in danger of falling from 
my horse. The landscape had no interest; the mountains 
appeared but shapeless masses, and the plains were vague and 
oppressively silent. I reached the salt desert of Persia, after 
a ride over country which steadily became more sterile and 
waterless. 

The fervour of that tract was intense. My thermometer 
indicated 129° Fahr. Yet this terrible tract, with its fervid 
glow and its expanse of pale yellow sand almost at white heat, 
was far more bearable by day than a night ride through it 
would have been — for, though I could distinguish nothing 
but a quivering vapour, the strange forms of the mirage were 
more agreeable than the monotonous darkness. 

Then follows a graphic picture of Ispahan, where he spent a week, 
and then onwards, ever onwards, riding through oven heat. 

At Kumishah, I invited myself to pass the night in the tele- 
graph station, for there was nobody at home. 

When evening came, I made my bed on the house-top, 
whence I had a good view of the town and of the myriad of 
mud towers, of acres of tomb-stones, and lion sphynxes. 
And there I dropped to sleep with the clear heaven for my 
canopy. 

At Yezdikhast I had to spend the day ; there were no horses, 
but, at 4 A. M., the relay arrived and away I sped, to the ruins 
of Pasargadae. Inclining a little towards the right, I came to 
a group of low and greyish hills, on the most southward of 
which I caught a glimpse of a whitish stone wall. Riding up 
to it, I found it to be a marble platform, or, rather, a marble 
wall, which encased the hill. 

The natives call it Solomon's Throne, and on it once stood 
the Castle of Pasargadae. To commemorate the overthrow 
of the Babylonian Empire, Cyrus the Great, in the year 
557 B. c, caused to be erected on it a fort, or castle, contain- 
ing a Holy Place, whither he went to worship, and where 
his successors were wont to be inaugurated as Kings of 
Persia. 



A ROVING COMMISSION 249 

From Pasargadse Stanley rides to Persepolis, and here he lingers 
amid the ruins, for he loves to dream of and reconstruct the mighty 
Past. 

I slept in the first portal of Persepolis, all night. The only 
food I could get was wafer bread and plenty of milk. 

Early the next morning, July 1st, Stanley rode away, after cutting 
his name deep on the Temple. Away, away to Shiraz, where he 
visits the graves of Saadi, Hafiz, and one of the many graves given 
to Bathsheba! 

At last Stanley reaches Bushire, where he took steamer and en- 
tered the Persian Gulf; he visits Bunder-Abbas, and then continues 
his journey to Muscat, Arabia; thence to Kurrachi, arriving at, 
Bombay, on August i, 1870, his long programme carried through, 
up to the verge of its last supreme undertaking, the search for Liv- 
ingstone. First, he brings his story up to date, for the 'Herald,* 
writing seventeen long letters about the Caucasus and Persian expe- 
riences; then he plunges deep into books on African Geography, 
' for I feel very ignorant about most things concerning Africa.' 

And here on the verge of the great venture, we may see how he 
reviewed and estimated the long preparatory stage, reckoning it 
not as a twelve-month, but as six years, when he looked back on it, 
toward the end. 

As may be imagined, these six years formed a most im- 
portant period of my life ; I had seen about fifteen fair battles 
with the military service, and three naval bombardments. 
Twice I had been shipwrecked, and I had been spectator of 
mighty events ; I had seen many sovereign-monarchs, princes, 
ministers, and generals; I had explored many large cities, 
and rubbed against thousands of men of vast nations ; and, 
having been compelled to write of what I had seen in a daily 
paper, it can be understood how invaluable such a career and 
such a training, with its compulsory lessons, was to me, pre- 
paring me for the great work which awaited me. To this 
training I owed increasing powers of observation, and judge- 
ment; the long railway journeys taught me, while watching 
and meditating upon the characters I met, how to observe 
most keenly and guide myself; by which I was enabled, I 
think, to achieve a certain mastery of those infirmities which, 
I was only too conscious, had cropped up since I had entered 
the Army [i. e., during the Civil War]. 



250 HENRY M. STANLEY 

And now, at last, — for Africa and Livingstone ! Zanzibar is to be 
his starting-point; there is no direct communication from Bombay; 
so he must creep and zig-zag, by irregular sailing-ship. He starts, 
October 12, 1870, in the barque 'Polly,' a six weeks' voyage to 
Mauritius. Off again, in the brigantine ' Romp ' ; and, in seventeen 
days, to St. Anne's Island, Seychelles group. Thence, in the little 
brigantine whaler, ' Falcon,' to creep along for nineteen days more. 

Still at sea, light breezes every day. Oh ! how I suffer from 
ennui ! Oh, torment of an impatient soul ! What is the use of 
a sailing-boat in the tropics ? My back aches with pain, my 
mind becomes old, and all because of these dispiriting calms. 

December 31st, 1870. Eighty days from Bombay, and 
Zanzibar, at last! 

But to find what? No letters from Bennett, nor his agent; so, 
of course, no money. No news of Livingstone since his departure, 
years before ; and of him, then, this cheerful gossip : — 

' gave me a very bad opinion of Livingstone ; he says that he 

is hard to get along with, is cross and narrow-minded ; that Liv- 
ingstone ought to come home, and allow a younger man to take his 
place ; that he takes no notes nor keeps his Journal methodically ; 
and that he would run away, if he heard any traveller was going 
to him.' 

This was the man, to find whom Stanley is to plunge into an 
unknown tropical Continent ; he, who in all his travellings has had 
either a beaten road, or guides who knew the country ; who has no 
experience with Africans, nor in organising and leading an expedi- 
tion ; who can find funds for his search only from a friendly loan 
of Captain F. R. Webb, and who is thrown on his own resources, 
almost as if he were entering a new world ! But — forward ! 



CHAPTER XIII 
THE FINDING OF LIVINGSTONE 

IN his book, * How I Found Livingstone,' Stanley has told that 
story at length. What here follows is arranged from material 
hitherto unpublished, and is designed to give the main thread 
of events, to supply some fuller illustration of his intercourse with 
Livingstone, and his final estimate of him, and, especially, both in 
this, and in his later explorations, to show from his private Journal 
something of the workings of his own heart and mind, in the solitude 
of Africa. 

Though fifteen months had elapsed since I had received my 
commission, no news of Livingstone had been heard by any 
mortal at Zanzibar. According to one, he was dead ; and, ac- 
cording to another, he was lost ; while still another hazarded 
the conviction that he had attached himself to an African 
princess, and had, in fact, settled down. There was no letter 
for me from Mr. Bennett, confirming his verbal order to go 
and search for the traveller ; and no one at Zanzibar was pre- 
pared to advance thousands of dollars to one whom nobody 
knew ; in my pocket I had about eighty dollars in gold left, 
after my fifteen months' journey! 

Many people since have professed to disbelieve that I dis- 
covered the lost traveller in Africa! Had they known the 
circumstances of my arrival at Zanzibar, they would have had 
greater reason for their unbelief than they had. To me it 
looked for a time as though it would be an impossibility for 
me even to put foot on the mainland, though it was only 
twenty-five miles off. But, thanks to Captain Webb, the 
American consul, I succeeded in raising a sum of money amply 
sufficient, for the time being, for my purpose. 

The ' sinews of war ' having been obtained, the formation of 
the expedition was proceeded with. On the 21st of March, 
1 87 1, it stood a compact little force of three whites, thirty-one 
armed freemen of Zanzibar, as escort, one hundred and fifty- 
three porters, and twenty-seven pack-animals, for a transport 
corps, besides two riding-horses, on the outskirts of the 



252 HENRY M. STANLEY 

coast- town of Bagamoyo ; equipped with every needful article 
for a long journey that the experience of many Arabs had 
suggested, and that my own ideas of necessaries for comfort 
or convenience, in illness or health, had provided. Its very 
composition betrayed its character. There was nothing ag- 
gressive in it. Its many bales of cloth, and loads of beads and 
wire, with its assorted packages of provisions and medicine, 
indicated a peaceful caravan about to penetrate among Afri- 
can tribes accustomed to barter and chaffer; while its few 
guns showed a sufficient defensive power against bands of 
native banditti, though offensive measures were utterly out 
of the question. 

I passed my apprenticeship in African travel while travers- 
ing the maritime region — a bitter school — amid rank 
jungles, fetid swamps, and fly-infested grass-lands, during 
which I encountered nothing that appeared to favour my 
journey. My pack and riding-animals died, my porters de- 
serted, sickness of a very grievous nature thinned my num- 
bers; but, despite the severe loss I sustained, I struggled 
through my troubles. 

Into the narrative of external events is here inserted what he re- 
corded of an interior experience at this time. 

In the matter of religion, I doubt whether I had much 
improved [during the preceding years of trial and adventure]. 
Had this stirring life amongst exciting events continued, it is 
probable that I should have drifted further away from the 
thoughts of religion. 

Years of indifference and excitement have an unconscious 
hardening power, and I might have lapsed altogether ; but my 
training in the world of politics, of selfish hustling, of fierce 
competition, stopped in time ; for, on commencing the work of 
my life, my first journey into Africa, I came face to face with 
Nature, and Nature was the means, through my complete 
isolation, of recalling me to what I had lost by long contact 
with the world. 

I had taken with me my Bible, and the American consul 
had given me, to pack up bottles of medicine with, a great 
many 'New York Heralds,' and other American newspapers. 
Strange connection ! But yet strangest of all was the change 



THE FINDING OF LIVINGSTONE 253 

wrought in me by the reading of the Bible and these news- 
papers in melancholy Africa. 

My sicknesses were frequent, and, during my first attacks 
of African fever, I took up the Bible to while away the tedious, 
feverish hours in bed. Though incapacitated from the march, 
my temperature being constantly at 105° Fahr., it did not 
prevent me from reading, when not light-headed. I read 
Job, and then the Psalms; and when I recovered and was 
once more in marching state, I occupied my mind in camp in 
glancing at the newspaper intelligence ; and then, somehow or 
another, my views towards newspapers were entirely recast; 
not as regards my own profession, which I still esteemed very 
highly, perhaps too highly, but as to the use and abuse of 
newspapers. 

Solitude taught me many things, and showed newspapers 
in quite a new light. There were several subjects treated in a 
manner that wild nature seemed to scorn. It appeared to me 
that the reading of anything in the newspapers, except that for 
which they were intended, namely news, was a waste of time ; 
and deteriorative of native force, and worth, and personality. 
The Bible, however, with its noble and simple language, I 
continued to read with a higher and truer understanding 
than I had ever before conceived. Its powerful verses had a 
different meaning, a more penetrative influence, in the silence 
of the wilds. I came to feel a strange glow while absorbed 
in its pages, and a charm peculiarly appropriate to the deep 
melancholy of African scenery. 

When I laid down the book, the mind commenced to feed 
upon what memory suggested. Then rose the ghosts of by- 
gone yearnings, haunting every cranny of the brain with 
numbers of baffled hopes and unfulfilled aspirations. Here 
was I, only a poor journalist, with no friends, and yet possessed 
by a feeling of power to achieve ! How could it ever be ? Then 
verses of Scripture rang iteratingly through my mind as ap- 
plicable to my own being, sometimes full of promise, often of 
solemn warning. 

Alone in my tent, unseen of men, my mind laboured and 
worked upon itself, and nothing was so soothing and sustain- 
ing as when I remembered the long-neglected comfort and 
support of lonely childhood and boyhood. I flung myself on 



254 HENRY M. STANLEY 

my knees, and poured out my soul utterly in secret prayer to 
Him from whom I had been so long estranged, to Him who had 
led me here mysteriously into Africa, there to reveal Himself, 
and His will. I became then inspired with fresh desire to serve 
Him to the utmost, that same desire which in early days in 
New Orleans filled me each morning, and sent me joyfully 
skipping to my work. 

As seen in my loneliness, there was this difference between 
the Bible and the newspapers. The one reminded me that, 
apart from God, my life was but a bubble of air, and it bade 
me remember my Creator; the other fostered arrogance and 
worldliness. When that vast upheaved sky, and mighty cir- 
cumference of tree-clad earth, or sere downland, marked so 
emphatically my personal littleness, I felt often so subdued 
that my black followers might have discerned, had they been 
capable of reflection, that Africa was changing me. 

It may be taken for granted that some of the newspaper 
issues which I took up, one after another, when examined 
under this new light, were uncommonly poor specimens of 
journalism. Though all contained some facts appertaining 
to the progress of the world's affairs, in which every intelli- 
gent man ought to be concerned, these were so few and meagre 
that they were overwhelmed by the vast space devoted to 
stupid personalities, which were either offensively flattering 
or carpingly derogatory; and there came columns of crime 
records, and mere gutter-matter. 

It was during these days I learned that, as teeth were given 
to chew our bread, and taste to direct our sense of its quality, 
so knowledge and experience were capable of directing the 
judgement ; and from that period to this, I have never allowed 
another to govern my decisions upon the character of any 
person, or to pervert my own ideas as to the rights and wrongs 
of a matter. I find, if one wishes to be other than a mere 
number, he must learn to exercise his own discretion. I have 
practised these rules ever since, and I remember my delight 
when I first found that this method had so trained and ex- 
panded my judgement that my views upon things affecting 
other people, or affairs in which I had no personal concern, 
were in harmony with those expressed by the best leading 
journals. 



THE FINDING OF LIVINGSTONE 255 

A multitude of records of African travel have been read 
by me during twenty-four years ; but I do not remember to 
have come across anything which would reveal the inward 
transition, in the traveller's own feelings, from those which 
move him among his own kindred, to those he feels when 
he discovers himself to be a solitary white man in the new 
world of savage Africa, and all the pageantry of civilisation, 
its blessings, its protection, its politics, its energy and power, 
— all have become a mere memory. I was but a few days in 
the wilderness, on the other side of the Kingani River, when 
it dawned upon me with a most sobering effect. The sable 
native regarded me with as much curiosity as I should have 
regarded a stranger from Mars. He saw that I was outwardly 
human, but his desire to know whether my faculties and 
usages were human as well was very evident, and until it was 
gratified by the putting of my hand into his and speaking to 
him, his doubt was manifest. 

My mission to find Livingstone was very simple, and was a 
clear and definite aim. All I had to do was to free my mind 
from all else, and relieve it of every earthly desire but the 
finding of the man whom I was sent to seek. To think of self, 
friends, banking-account, life-insurance, or any worldly in- 
terest but the one sole purpose of reaching the spot where 
Livingstone might happen to rest, could only tend to weaken 
resolution. Intense application to my task assisted me to 
forget all I had left behind, and all that might lie ahead in the 
future. 

In some ways, it produced a delightful tranquillity which 
was foreign to me while in Europe. To be indifferent to the 
obituaries the papers may publish to-morrow, that never even 
a thought should glance across the mind of law-courts, jails, 
tombstones ; not to care what may disturb a Parliament, or a 
Congress, or the state of the Funds, or the nerves excited about 
earthquakes, floods, wars, and other national evils, is a felicity 
few educated men in Britain know ; and it compensated me in a 
great measure for the distress from heat, meagreness of diet, 
malaria, and other ills, to which I became subject soon after 
entering Africa. 

Every day added something to my experience. I saw that 



256 HENRY M. STANLEY 

exciting adventures could not happen so often as I had antici- 
pated, that the fevers in Africa were less frequent than in 
some parts of the Mississippi Valley, that game was not 
visible on every acre, and that the ambushed savage was 
rare. There were quite as many bright pictures to be met 
with as there were dark. Troubles taught patience, and with 
the exercise of patience came greater self-control and experi- 
ence. My ideas respecting my Zanzibari and Unyamwezi 
followers were modified after a few weeks' observation and 
trials of them. Certain vices and follies, which clung to their 
uneducated natures, were the source of great trouble ; though 
there were brave virtues in most of them, which atoned for 
much that appeared incorrigible. 

Wellington is reported to have said that he never knew 
a good-tempered man in India ; and Sydney Smith thought 
that sweetness of temper was impossible in a very cold or a 
very hot climate. With such authorities it is somewhat bold, 
perhaps, to disagree; but after experiences of Livingstone, 
Pocock, Swinburne, Surgeon Parke, and other white men, one 
must not take these remarks too literally. As for my black 
followers, no quality was so conspicuous and unvarying as 
good-temper ; and I think that, since I had more occasion to 
praise my black followers than blame them, even I must 
surely take credit for being more often good-tempered than 
bad; and besides, I felt great compassion for them. How 
often the verse in the Psalms recurred to me : * Like as a 
father pitieth his own children ' ! 

It was on my first expedition that I felt I was ripening. 
Hitherto, my faculties had been too busy in receiving im- 
pressions; but, like the young corn which greedily absorbs 
the rain and cool dews, and, on approaching maturity, begins 
to yellow under summer suns, so I began to feel the benefit of 
the myriad impressions, and I grew to govern myself with 
more circumspection. 

On the 8th May, 1871, we began to ascend the Usagara 
range, and, in eight marches, we arrived on the verge of the 
dry, rolling, and mostly wooded plateau, which continues, 
almost without change, for nearly six hundred miles west- 
ward. We soon after entered Ugogo, inhabited by a bump- 
tious, full-chested, square-shouldered people, who exact heavy 



THE FINDING OF LIVINGSTONE 257 

tribute from all caravans. Nine marches took us through 
their country ; and, when we finally shook the dust of its red 
soil off our feet, we were rich in the experience of native man- 
ners and arrogance, but considerably poorer in means. 

Beyond Ugogo undulated the Land of the Moon, or Un- 
yamwezi, inhabited by a turbulent and combative race, who 
are as ready to work for those who can afford to pay as they 
are ready to fight those they consider unduly aggressive. 
Towards the middle of this land, we came to a colony of Arab 
settlers and traders. Some of these had built excellent and 
spacious houses of sun-dried brick, and cultivated extensive 
gardens. The Arabs located here were great travellers. Every 
region round about the colony had been diligently searched 
by them for ivory. If Livingstone was anywhere within reach, 
some of these people ought surely to have known. But, al- 
though I questioned eagerly all whom I became acquainted 
with, no one could give me definite information of the missing 
man. 

I was preparing to leave the Arab colony in Unyanyembe 
when war broke out between the settlers and a native chief, 
named Mirambo, and a series of sanguinary contests followed. 
In the hope that, by adding my force to that of the Arabs, a 
route west might be opened, I, foolishly enough, joined them. 
I did not succeed in my enterprise, however, and a disastrous 
retreat followed. The country became more and more dis- 
turbed ; bandits infested every road leading from the colony ; 
cruel massacres, destruction of villages, raids by predatory 
Watuta, were daily reported to me ; until it seemed to me that 
there was neither means for advance nor retreat left. 

As my expedition had become thoroughly disorganized 
during my flight with the Arabs from the fatal campaign 
against Mirambo, I turned my attention to form another, 
which, whether I should continue my search for the lost 
traveller, or abandon it, and turn my face homeward, would 
be equally necessary ; and, as during such an unquiet period 
it would be a task requiring much time and patience, I mean- 
while consulted my charts, and the best informed natives, as 
to the possibility of evading the hostile bands of Mirambo by 
taking a circuitous route round the disturbed territory. 

Finally, on the 20th of September, 1871, I set out from the 



258 HENRY M. STANLEY 

Arab settlement at Kwihara to resume the journey so long 
interrupted. I had been detained three months at Unyan- 
yembe by an event totally unlooked-for when the expedition 
left the sea. Almost every day of this interval had witnessed 
trouble. Some troubles had attained the magnitude of public 
and private calamities. Many Arab friends had been massa- 
cred ; many of my own people either had been slain in battle 
or had perished from disease. Over forty had deserted. One 
of my white companions was dead ; the other had become a 
mere burden. All the transport animals but two had died; 
days of illness from fever had alternated with days of apparent 
good health. My joys had been few indeed, but my miseries 
many ; yet this day, the third expedition that I had organised, 
through great good fortune numbered nearly sixty picked 
men, almost all of whom were well armed, and loaded with 
every necessary that was portable, bound to demonstrate if 
somewhere in the wild western lands the lost traveller lived, 
or was dead. 

The conclusion I had arrived at was, that, though Mirambo 
and his hordes effectually closed the usual road to Lake Tan- 
ganyika, a flank march might be made, sufficiently distant 
from the disturbed territory and sufficiently long to enable me 
to strike west, and make another attempt to reach the Arab 
colony on Lake Tanganyika. I calculated that from two hun- 
dred to three hundred miles extra marching would enable me 
to reach Ujiji safely. 

Agreeably to this determination, for twenty-two days we 
travelled in a south-westerly direction, during which I esti- 
mated we had performed a journey of two hundred and forty 
miles. At a place called Mpokwa, Mirambo's capital lying 
due north ten days distant, I turned westward, and after 
thirty-five miles, gradually turned a little to the westward of 
north. At the 105th mile of this northerly journey we came to 
the ferry of the Malagarazi River, Mirambo being, at that 
point, eight days' march direct east of us, from whence I took 
a north-westerly course, straight for the port of the Arab col- 
ony on the great Lake. With the exception of a mutiny among 
my own people, which was soon forcibly crushed, and consider- 
able suffering from famine, I had met with no adventures which 
detained me, or interrupted my rapid advance on the Lake. 



THE FINDING OF LIVINGSTONE 259 

At the river just mentioned, however, a rumour reached me, 
by a native caravan, of a white man having reached Ujiji from 
Manyuema, a country situated a few hundred miles west of 
the lake, which startled us all greatly. The caravan did not 
stay long. The ferriage of the river is always exciting. The 
people were natives of West Tanganyika. The evidence, such 
as it was, — brief, and given in a language few of my people 
could understand, — was conclusive that the stranger was 
elderly, grey-bearded, white, and that he was a man wearing 
clothes somewhat of the pattern of those I wore ; that he had 
been at Ujiji before, but had been years absent in the western 
country; and that he had only arrived either the same day 
they had left Ujiji with their caravan, or the day before. 

To my mind, startling as it was to me, it appeared that he 
could be no other than Livingstone. True, Sir Samuel Baker 
was known to be in Central Africa in the neighbourhood of the 
Nile lakes — but he was not grey-bearded ; a traveller might 
have arrived from the West Coast, — he might be a Portu- 
guese, a German, or a Frenchman, — but then none of these 
had ever been heard of in the neighbourhood of Ujiji. There- 
fore, as fast as doubts arose as to his personality, arguments 
were as quickly found to dissipate them. Quickened by the 
hope that was inspired in my mind by this vague rumour, I 
crossed the Malagarazi River, and soon after entered the 
country of the factious and warlike Wahha. 

A series of misfortunes commenced at the first village we 
came to in Uhha. I was summoned to halt, and to pay such a 
tribute as would have beggared me had I yielded. To reduce 
it, however, was a severe task and strain on my patience. I 
had received no previous warning that I should be subjected 
to such extortionate demands, which made the matter worse. 
The inevitable can always be endured, if due notice is given ; 
but the suddenness of a mishap or an evil rouses the combative 
instincts in man. Before paying, or even submitting to the 
thought of payment, my power of resistance was carefully 
weighed, but I became inclined to moderation upon being 
assured by all concerned that this would be the only instance 
of what must be endured unless we chose to fight. After long 
hours of haggling over the amount, I paid my forfeit, and was 
permitted to proceed. 



26o HENRY M, STANLEY 

The next day I was again halted, and summoned to pay. 
The present demand was for two bales of cloth. This led to 
half-formed resolutions to resist to the death, then anxious 
conjectures as to what would be the end of this rapacity. The 
manner of the Wahha was confident and supercilious. This 
could only arise from the knowledge that, whether their de- 
mands were agreeable or not to the white man, the refusal 
to pay could but result in gain to them. After hours of at- 
tempts to reduce the sum total, I submitted to pay one bale 
and a quarter. Again I was assured this would be the last. 

The next day I rose at dawn to resume the march ; but, four 
hours later, we were halted again, and forfeited another half- 
bale, notwithstanding the most protracted and patient hag- 
gling on my part. And for the third time I was assured we 
were safe from further demands. The natives and my own 
people combined to comfort me with this assurance. I heard, 
however, shortly after, that Uhha extended for two long 
marches yet, further west. Knowing this, I declined to believe 
them, and began to form plans to escape from Uhha. 

I purchased four days' rations as a pro^dsion for the wilder- 
ness, and at midnight I roused the caravan. Having noise- 
lessly packed the goods, the people silently stole away from 
the sleeping village in small groups, and the guides were di- 
rected, as soon as we should be a little distance off, to abandon 
the road and march to the southward over the grassy plain. 
After eighteen hours' marching through an unpeopled wilder- 
ness, we were safe beyond Uhha and the power of any chief to 
exact tribute, or to lay down the arbitrary law, * Fight, or pay.' 
A small stream now crossed was the boundary line between 
hateful Uhha and peaceful Ukaranga. 

That evening we slept at a chief's village in Ukaranga, with 
only one more march of six hours, it was said, intervening 
between us and the Arab settlement of Ujiji, in which native 
rumour located an old, grey-bearded, white man, who had 
but newly arrived from a distant western country. It was now 
two hundred and thirty-five days since I had left the Indian 
Ocean, and fifty days since I had departed from Unyanyembe. 

At cock-crow of the eventful day,* the day that was to end 
all doubt, we strengthened ourselves with a substantial meal, 

* Friday, November lo, 1871. 



THE FINDING OF LIVINGSTONE 261 

and, as the sun rose in the east, we turned our backs to it, and 
the caravan was soon in full swing on the march. We were in 
a hilly country, thickly-wooded, towering trees nodding their 
heads far above, tall bush filling darkly the shade, the road 
winding like a serpent, narrow and sinuous, the hollows all 
musical with the murmur of living waters and their sibilant 
echoes, the air cool and fragrant with the smell of strange 
flowers and sweet gums. Then, my mind lightened with pleas- 
ant presentiments, and conscience complaisantly approving 
what I had done hitherto, you can imagine the vigour of 
our pace in that cool and charming twilight of the forest 
shades ! 

About eight o'clock we were climbing the side of a steep and 
wooded hill, and we presently stood on the very crest of it, 
and on the furthest edge looked out into a realm of light — 
wherein I saw, as in a painted picture, a vast lake in the dis- 
tance below, with its face luminous as a mirror, set in a frame 
of dimly-blue mountains. On the further side they seemed to 
be of appalling height. On the hither side they rose from low 
hills lining the shore, in advancing lines, separated by valleys, 
until they terminated at the base of that tall mountain-brow 
whereon I stood, looking down from my proud height, with 
glad eyes and exultant feelings, upon the whole prospect. 

On our admiring people, who pressed eagerly forward to 
gaze upon the scene, contentment diffused itself immediately, 
inspiring a boisterous good-humour ; for it meant a crowning 
rest from their daily round of miles, and a holiday from the 
bearing of burdens, certainly an agreeable change from the 
early reveille, and hard fare of the road. 

With thoughts still gladder, if possible, than ever, the cara- 
van was urged down the descent. The lake grew larger into 
view, and smiled a broad welcome to us, until we lost sight of 
it in the valley below. For hours I strode nervously on, tearing 
through the cane-brakes of the valleys, brushing past the 
bush on the hill-slopes and crests, flinging gay remarks to the 
wondering villagers, who looked on the almost flying column 
in mute surprise, until near noon, when, having crossed the 
last valley and climbed up to the summit of the last hill, lo ! 
Lake Tanganyika was distant from us but half a mile ! 

Before such a scene I must halt once more. To me, a lover 



262 HENRY M. STANLEY 

of the sea, its rolling waves, its surge and its moan, the grand 
lake recalls my long-forgotten love ! I look enraptured upon 
the magnificent expanse of fresh water, and the white-tipped 
billows of the inland sea. I see the sun and the clear white sky 
reflected a million million times upon the dancing waves. I 
hear the sounding surge on the pebbled shore, I see its crispy 
edge curling over, and creeping up the land, to return again to 
the watery hollows below. I see canoes, far away from the 
shore, lazily rocking on the undulating face of the lake, and at 
once the sight appeals to the memories of my men who had 
long ago handled the net and the paddle. Hard by the lake 
shore, embowered in palms, on this hot noon, the village of 
Ujiji broods drowsily. No living thing can be seen moving 
to break the stilly aspect of the outer lines of the town and 
its deep shades. The green-swarded hill on which I stood 
descended in a gentle slope to the town. The path was seen, 
of an ochreous-brown, curving down the face of the hill until 
it entered under the trees into the town. 

I rested awhile, breathless from my exertions ; and, as the 
stragglers were many, I halted to re-unite and re-form for an 
imposing entry. Meantime, my people improved their per- 
sonal appearance; they clothed themselves in clean dresses, 
and snowy cloths were folded round their heads. When the 
laggards had all been gathered, the guns were loaded to rouse 
up the sleeping town. It is an immemorial custom, for a cara- 
van creeps not up into a friendly town like a thief. Our braves 
knew the custom well ; they therefore volleyed and thundered 
their salutes as they went marching down the hill slowly, and 
with much self-contained dignity. 

Presently, there is a tumultuous stir visible on the outer edge 
of the town. Groups of men in white dresses, with arms in 
their hands, burst from the shades, and seem to hesitate a 
moment, as if in doubt ; they then come rushing up to meet 
us, pursued by hundreds of people, who shout joyfully, while 
yet afar, their noisy welcomes. 

The foremost, who come on bounding up, cry out : ' Why, we 
took you for Mirambo and his bandits, when we heard the 
booming of the guns. It is an age since a caravan has come to 
Ujiji. Which way did you come? Ah ! you have got a white 
man with you ! Is this his caravan ? ' 



THE FINDING OF LIVINGSTONE 263 

Being told it was a white man's caravan by the guides in 
front, the boisterous multitude pressed up to me, greeted me 
with salaams, and bowed their salutes. Hundreds of them 
jostled and trod on one another's heels as they each strove to 
catch a look at the master of the caravan; and I was about 
asking one of the nearest to me whether it was true that there 
was a white man in Ujiji, who was just come from the coun- 
tries west of the Lake, when a tall black man, in long white 
shirt, burst impulsively through the crowd on my right, and 
bending low, said, — 

' Good-morning, sir,' in clear, intelligent English. 

'Hello!' I said, 'who in the mischief are you?* 

' I am Susi, sir, the servant of Dr. Livingstone.* 

* What ! is Dr. Livingstone here in this town ? ' 
'Yes, sir.' 

'But, are you sure; sure that it is Dr. Livingstone?* 
' Why, I leave him just now, sir.' 

Before I could express my wonder, a similarly-dressed man 
elbowed his way briskly to me, and said, — 
'Good-morning, sir.' 

* Are you also a servant of Dr. Livingstone ? ' I asked. 
'Yes, sir.' 

' And what is your name ? ' 

' It is Chuma.' 

' Oh ! the friend of Wekotani, from the Nassick School ? ' 

'Yes, sir.' 

* Well, now that we have met, one of you had better run 
ahead, and tell the Doctor of my coming.' 

The same idea striking Susi's mind, he undertook in his 
impulsive manner to inform the Doctor, and I saw him racing 
headlong, with his white dress streaming behind him like a 
wind-whipped pennant. 

The column continued on its way, beset on either flank by 
a vehemently-enthusiastic and noisily-rejoicing mob, which 
bawled a jangling chorus of ' Yambos ' to every mother's son 
of Us, and maintained an inharmonious orchestral music of 
drums and horns. I was indebted for this loud ovation to the 
cheerful relief the people felt that we were not Mirambo's 
bandits, and to their joy at the happy rupture of the long 
silence that had perforce existed between the two trading 



264 HENRY M. STANLEY 

colonies of Unyanyembe and Ujiji, and because we brought 
news which concerned every householder and freeman of this 
lake port. 

After a few minutes we came to a halt. The guides in the 
van had reached the market-place, which was the central point 
of interest. For there the great Arabs, chiefs, and respecta- 
bilities of Ujiji, had gathered in a group to await events; 
thither also they had brought with them the venerable Euro- 
pean traveller who was at that time resting among them. The 
caravan pressed up to them, divided itself into two lines 
on either side of the road, and, as it did so, disclosed to me 
the prominent figure of an elderly white man clad in a red 
flannel blouse, grey trousers, and a blue cloth, gold-banded 
cap. 

Up to this moment my mind had verged upon non-belief 
in his existence, and now a nagging doubt intruded itself into 
my mind that this white man could not be the object of my 
quest, or if he were, he would somehow contrive to disappear 
before my eyes would be satisfied with a view of him. 

Consequently, though the expedition was organized for this 
supreme moment, and every movement of it had been con- 
fidently ordered with the view of discovering him, yet when 
the moment of discovery came, and the man himself stood 
revealed before me, this constantly recurring doubt con- 
tributed not a little to make me unprepared for it. * It may 
not be Livingstone after all,' doubt suggested. If this is he, 
what shall I say to him? My imagination had not taken 
this question into consideration before. All around me was 
the immense crowd, hushed and expectant, and wondering 
how the scene would develop itself. 

Under all these circumstances I could do no more than 
exercise some restraint and reserve, so I walked up to 
him, and, doffing my helmet, bowed and said in an inquiring 
tone, — 

* Dr. Livingstone, I presume ? ' 

Smiling cordially, he lifted his cap, and answered briefly, 
'Yes.' 

This ending all scepticism on my part, my face betrayed 
the earnestness of my satisfaction as I extended my hand 
and added, — 




HENRY M. STANLEY, 1872 



THE FINDING OF LIVINGSTONE 265 

' I thank God, Doctor, that I have been permitted to see 
you.' ^ 

In the warm grasp he gave my hand, and the heartiness of 
his voice, I felt that he also was sincere and earnest as he 
replied, — 

' I feel most thankful that I am here to welcome you.' 

The principal Arabs now advanced, and I was presented 
by the Doctor to Sayed bin Majid, a relative of the Prince 
of Zanzibar; to Mahommed bin Sali, the Governor of Ujiji; 
to Abed bin Suliman, a rich merchant; to Mahommed bin 
Gharib, a constant good friend ; and to many other notable 
friends and neighbours. 

Then, remarking that the sun was very hot, the Doctor led 
the way to the verandah of his house, which was close by and 
fronted the market-place. The vast crowd moved with us. 

After the Arab chiefs had been told the latest news of the 
war of their friends with Mirambo, with salaams, greetings, 
and warm hand-shakings, and comforting words to their old 
friend David (Livingstone), they retired from the verandah, 
and a large portion of the crowd followed them. 

Then Livingstone caught sight of my people still standing 
in the hot sunshine by their packs, and extending his hand, 
said to me, — 

' I am afraid I have been very remiss, too. Let me ask you 
now to share my house with me. It is not a very fine house, 
but it is rain-proof and cool, and there are enough spare 
rooms to lodge you and your goods. Indeed, one room is far 
too large for my use.' 

I expressed my gratification at his kind offer in suitable 
terms, and accordingly gave directions to the chiefs of the 
caravan about the storing of the goods and the purchase of 
rations ; and Livingstone charged his three servants, Susi, 
Chuma, and Hamoyda, to assist them. Relieved thus happily 
and comfortably from all further trouble about my men, I 
introduced the subject of breakfast, and asked permission of 
the Doctor to give a few directions to my cook. 

The Doctor became all at once anxious on that score. Was 

^ In his book How I Found Livingstone, Stanley recognised the guiding hand of an 
over-ruling and kindly Providence in the following words : — 

'Had I gone direct from Paris on the search, I might have lost him; had I been 
enabled to have gone direct to Ujiji from Unyanyembe, I might have lost him.' 



266 HENRY M. STANLEY 

my cook a good one? Could he prepare a really satisfactory 
breakfast ? If not, he had a gem of a female cook — and here 
he laughed, and continued, ' She is the oddest, most eccentric 
woman I have ever seen. She is quite a character, but I must 
give her due credit for her skill in cooking. She is exceedingly 
faithful, clean, and deft at all sorts of cooking fit for a tooth- 
less old man like myself. But, perhaps, the two combined 
would be still better able to satisfy you ? ' 

Halima, a stout, buxom woman of thirty, was brought at 
once to our presence, grinning, but evidently nervous and shy. 
She was not uninteresting by any means, and as she opened 
her capacious mouth, two complete and perfect rows of teeth 
were revealed. 

'Halima,' began Livingstone, in kind, grave tones, 'my 
young brother has travelled far, and is hungry. Do you think 
you and Ferajji, his cook, can manage to give us something 
nice to eat ? What have you ? ' 

' I can have some dampers, and kid kabobs, and tea or 
coffee ready immediately, master, if you like ; and by sending 
to the market for something, we can do better.' 

* Well, Halima, we will leave it to you and Ferajji ; only do 
your best, for this is a great day for us all in Ujiji.' 

* Yes, master. Sure to do that.' 

I now thought of Livingstone's letters, and calling Kaif- 
Halek, the bearer of them, I delivered into the Doctor's hands 
a long-delayed letter-bag that I had discovered at Unyan- 
yembe, the cover of which was dated November 1st, 1870. 

A gleam of joy lighted up his face, but he made no remark, 
as he stepped on to the verandah and resumed his seat. Rest- 
ing the letter-bag on his knees, he presently, after a minute's 
abstraction in thought, lifted his face to me and said, ' Now 
sit down by my side, and tell me the news.' 

* But what about your letters. Doctor ? You will find the 
news, I dare say, in them. I am sure you must be impatient 
to read your letters after such a long silence.' 

* Ah ! ' he replied, with a sigh, ' I have waited years for letters ; 
and the lesson of patience I have well learned ! — I can surely 
wait a few hours longer! I would rather hear the general 
news, so pray tell me how the old world outside of Africa is 
getting along.' 



THE FINDING OF LIVINGSTONE 267 

Consenting, I sat down, and began to give a resume of the 
exciting events that had transpired since he had disappeared 
in Africa, in March, 1866. 

When I had ended the story of triumphs and reverses which 
had taken place between 1866 and 1871, my tent-boys ad- 
vanced to spread a crimson table-cloth, and arrange the 
dishes and smoking platters heaped up profusely with hot 
dampers, white rice, maize porridge, kid kabobs, fricasseed 
chicken, and stewed goat-meat. There were also a number of 
things giving variety to the meal, such as honey from Uka- 
wendi, forest plums, and wild-fruit jam, besides sweet milk 
and clabber, and then a silver tea-pot full of * best tea,' and 
beautiful china cups and saucers to drink it from. Before we 
could commence this already magnificent breakfast, the serv- 
ants of Sayed bin Majid, Mohammed bin Sali, and Muini 
Kheri brought three great trays loaded with cakes, curries, 
hashes, and stews, and three separate hillocks of white rice, 
and we looked at one another with a smile of wonder at this 
Ujiji banquet. 

We drew near to it, and the Doctor uttered the grace : * For 
what we are going to receive, make us, O Lord, sincerely 
thankful.' 

I need not linger over a description of Livingstone. All this 
may be found in books, in mine among the number ; but I will 
note some other discoveries relating to him which I made, 
which may not be found in books. At various times I have 
remarked that the question most frequently given to me has 
been : ' Why did not Livingstone return of his own accord 
when he found his energies waning, age creeping on him and 
fettering him in its strong bonds, his means so reduced that 
he was unable to accomplish anything, even if youth could 
have been restored to him ? ' 

Briefly, I will answer that his return to home and kindred 
was prevented by an over-scrupulous fidelity to a promise that 
he had made to his friend Sir R. Murchison — that he would 
set the matter of that watershed north of the Tanganyika 
at rest. But, strive as he might, misfortune dogged him; 
dauntlessly he urged his steps forward over the high plateaus 
between Nyasa and Tanganyika, but, steadily, evil, in various 
disguises, haunted him. First, his transport animals died, his 



268 HENRY M. STANLEY 

Indian escort malingered, and halted, faint-hearted, on the 
road, until they were dismissed; then his Johanna escort 
played the same trick and deserted him, after which his 
porters under various pretences absconded ; the natives took 
advantage of his weakness, and tyrannised over him at every 
opportunity. A canoe capsized on Lake Bangweolo, which 
accident deprived him of his medicine-chest; then, malarial 
diseases, finding the body now vulnerable and open to attack, 
assailed him, poisoned his blood, and ravished his strength. 
Malignant ulcers flourished on the muscles of his limbs, dysen- 
tery robbed him of the vital constituent of his body. Still, 
after a time, he rose from his sick-bed, and pressed on un- 
falteringly. 

The watershed, when he reached it, grew to be a tougher 
problem than he had conceived it to be. On the northern 
slope, a countless multitude of streams poured northward, 
into an enormously wide valley. At its lowest depression, they 
were met by others, rushing to meet them from the north and 
east. United, they formed a river of such volume and current 
that he paused in wonder. So remote from all known rivers — 
Nile, Niger, Congo — and yet so large ! Heedless of his beg- 
gared state, forgetful of his past miseries, unconscious of his 
weakness, his fidelity to his promise drives him on with the 
zeal of an honourable fanatic. He must fulfil his promise, or 
die in the attempt! 

We, lapped as we are in luxury, feeding on the daintiest 
diet, affecting an epicurean cynicism, with the noble virtues 
of our youth and earlier life blunted from too close contact 
with animal pleasures, can only smile contemptuously, com- 
passionating these morbid ideas of honour! This man, how- 
ever, verging upon old age, is so beset by these severely-rigid 
scruples of his that he must go on. 

He traces that voluminous river until it enters a shallow 
lake called Bangweolo, which spreads out on either hand 
beyond sight, like a sea. He attempts to navigate it ; his in- 
tention is frustrated by a calamity — the last of his medicines 
are lost, his instruments are damaged. He determines to go 
by land, reaches Cazembe, and by the natives he is told of 
other lakes and rivers without end, all trending northward. 
He directs his steps north and west to gather the clues to the 



THE FINDING OF LIVINGSTONE 269 

riverine labyrinth, until he is, perforce, halted by utter ex- 
haustion of his means. He meets an Arab, begs a loan for 
mere subsistence; and, on that account, must needs march 
whither the Arab goes. 

Hearing of a caravan bound coastward, he writes a letter 
to Zanzibar in 1867, and directs that goods should be sent to 
him at Ujiji ; and, bidding his soul possess itself with patience, 
he wanders with the Arab merchant for a whole year, and, 
in 1869, arrives at Ujiji. There is nothing there for him; but 
a draft on Zanzibar suffices to purchase, at an extortionate 
charge, a few bags of beads and a few bales of cloth, with 
which he proposes to march due west to strike that great river 
discovered two years before so far south. This is loyalty to a 
friend with a vengeance ! 

The friend to whom he had given his promise, had he but 
known to what desperate straits the old man was reduced, 
would long ago have absolved him. Livingstone was now in 
his fifty-seventh year, toothless, ill-clad, a constant victim to 
disease, meagre and gaunt from famine : but Livingstone's 
word was not a thing to be obliterated by forgetfulness — he 
had made it his creed, and resolved to be true to it. 

Well, this insatiable zeal for his word demands that he 
proceed due west, to find this river. He travels until within 
a hundred miles of it, when he is stricken down by African 
ulcers of a peculiarly virulent type, which confine him to his 
bed for months. During this forced rest, his few followers 
become utterly demoralised ; they refuse to stay with a man 
who seems bent on self-destruction, and so blind, they say, 
that he will not see he is marching to his doom. The ninth 
month brings relief — his body is cured, a small re-enforcement 
of men appear before him, in answer to the letter he had sent 
in 1867. 

The new men inform him they have only come to convey 
him back to the coast. He repudiates the insinuation their 
words convey with indignant warmth. He buys their sub- 
mission by liberal largesse, and resumes his interrupted jour- 
ney westward. In a few days, he arrives at the banks of the 
Lualaba, which is now two thousand yards wide, deep, and 
flowing strong still northward, at a point thirteen hundred 
miles from its source. The natives as well as the Arab traders 



270 HENRY M. STANLEY 

unite in the statement that, as far as their acquaintance with 
it is, its course is northward. The problem becomes more and 
more difficult, and its resolution is ever elusive. His instru- 
ments make it only two thousand feet above the sea — the 
Nile, six hundred miles northward, is also two thousand feet ! 
How can this river be the Nile, then? Yet its course is 
northward and Nileward, — has been northward and Nileward 
ever since it left Bangweolo Lake, seven hundred miles south 
of where he stands, — and, for many weeks' travel along its 
banks, all reports prove that it continues its northerly flow. 

To settle this exasperating puzzle, he endeavours to pur- 
chase canoes for its navigation ; but his men become rebellious 
and frantic in their opposition, and Livingstone finds that 
every attempt he makes is thwarted. While hesitating what 
to do, he receives a letter, which informs him that another 
caravan has arrived for him at Ujiji. He resolves to journey 
back to Lake Tanganyika, and dismiss these obstinate and 
mutinous followers of his; and, with new men, carefully 
chosen, return to this interesting field, and explore it until he 
discovers the bourn of that immense river. 

He arrives at Ujiji about the ist of November, 1871, only 
to find that his caravan has been disbanded, and the goods 
sold by its chief ; in other words, that his present state is worse 
than ever! 

He is now in his fifty-ninth year, far away from the scene 
of his premeditated labours; the sea, where he might have 
rest and relief from these continually-repeating misfortunes, 
though only nine hundred miles off, is as inaccessible as the 
moon to him, because Miramboand his bandits are carrying on 
a ravaging and desolating war throughout all the region east of 
Ujiji. The Arabs of the colony have no comfort to impart to 
him, for they, too, feel the doom of isolation impending over 
them. Over and over again, they have despatched scouts 
eastward, and each time these have returned with the authen- 
tic news that all routes to the sea are closed by sanguinary 
brigandage. Not knowing how long this period may last, the 
Arabs practise the strictest economy ; they have neither cloth 
nor bead currency to lend, however large may be the interest 
offered for the loan. But, as the position of the old man has 
become desperate, and he and his few followers may die of 



THE FINDING OF LIVINGSTONE 271 

starvation, if no relief be given, Sayed bin Majid and Moham- 
med bin Gharib advance a few dozen cloths to him, which, 
with miserly economy, may suffice to purchase food for a 
month. 

And then ? Ah ! then the prospect will be blank indeed ! 
However, 'Thy will be done. Elijah was fed by a raven; a 
mere dove brought hope to Noah ; unto the hungering Christ, 
angels ministered. To God, the All-bountiful, all things are 
possible ! ' 

To keep his mind from brooding over the hopeless prospect, 
he turns to his Journal, occupies himself with writing down at 
large, and with method, the brief jottings of his lengthy jour- 
neys, that nothing may be obscure of his history in the African 
wilds to those who may hereafter act as the executors and 
administrators of his literary estate. When fatigued by his 
constrained position on the clay floor in that east-facing 
verandah, he would lift his heavy Journal from his lap, and, 
with hand to chin, sit for hours in his brooding moods, think- 
ing, ever thinking — mind ever revolving the prayer, * How 
long, O Lord, must Thy servant bear all this? ' 

At noon, on the tenth day after his arrival at Ujiji from 
the west, — while he was in one of these brooding fits on the 
verandah, — looking up to the edge of that mountain-plateau, 
whence we, a few hours before, had gazed in rapture on the 
Tanganyika, several volleys of musketry suddenly startled 
him and his drowsy neighbours. The town was wakened from 
its siesta by the alarming sound of firing. The inhabitants 
hurriedly issued out of their homes somewhat frightened, 
asking one another if it were Mirambo and his bandits. The 
general suspicion that the strangers could be no other than the 
ubiquitous African chief and his wild men caused all to lay 
their hands on their arms and prepare for the conflict. The 
boldest, creeping cautiously out of the town, see a caravan 
descending slowly towards Ujiji, bearing the Zanzibar and 
American flags in front, and rush back shouting out the news 
that the strangers are friends from Zanzibar. 

In a few minutes the news becomes more definite : people 
say that it is a white man's caravan. Looking out upon the 
market-place from his verandah, Livingstone is, from the first, 
aware of the excitement which the sudden firing is causing; 



272 HENRY M. STANLEY 

but if it be Mirambo, as all suspect it to be, it does not matter 
much to him, for he is above the miserable fear of death; 
violent as it may be, it will be but a happy release from the 
afflictions of life. Soon, however, men cried out to him, * Joy, 
old master, it is a white man's caravan ; it may belong to a 
friend of thine.' This Livingstone contemptuously declines to 
believe. It is then that Susi appears, rushing up to me with 
his impulsive * Good-morning.' None knew better than Susi 
what a change in the circumstances of his old master and him- 
self the arrival of an English-speaking white man foreshad- 
owed. With even more energy of movement he returned to 
Livingstone, crying, * It is true, sir, it is a white man, he speaks 
English ; and he has got an American flag with him.' More 
than ever perplexed by this news, he asks, ' But are you sure 
of what you say ? Have you seen him ? * 

At this moment the Arab chiefs came in a group to him, and 
said, ' Come, arise, friend David. Let us go and meet this 
white stranger. He may be a relative of thine. Please God, he 
is sure to be a friend. The praise be to God for His goodness ! ' 

They had barely reached the centre of the market-place, 
when the head of the caravan appeared, and a few seconds 
later the two white men — Livingstone and myself — met, 
as already described. 

Our meeting took place on the loth November, 1871. It 
found him reduced to the lowest ebb in fortune by his endless 
quest of the solution to the problem of that mighty river 
Lualaba, which, at a distance of three hundred miles from 
Lake Tanganyika, flowed parallel with the lake, northward. 
In body, he was, as he himself expressed it, ' a mere ruckle of 
bones.' 

The effect of the meeting was a rapid restoration to health ; 
he was also placed above want, for he had now stores in 
abundance sufficient to have kept him in comfort in Ujiji for 
years, or to equip an expedition capable of solving within a few 
months even that tough problem of the Lualaba. There was 
only one thing wanting to complete the old man's happiness — 
that was an obedient and tractable escort. Could I have fur- 
nished this to him there and then, no doubt Livingstone would 
have been alive to-day,^ because, after a few days' rest at Ujiji, 

» This was written in 1885. — D. S. 



THE FINDING OF LIVINGSTONE 273 

we should have parted — he to return to the Lualaba, and 
trace the river, perhaps, down to the sea, or until he found 
sufficient proofs that it was the Congo, which would be about 
seven hundred miles north-west of Nyangwe ; I journeying 
to the East Coast. 

As my people, however, had only been engaged for two 
years, no bribe would have been sufficient to have made them 
tractable for a greater period. But, inasmuch as Livingstone 
would not relinquish his unfinished task, and no men of the 
kind he needed were procurable at Ujiji, it was necessary that 
he should return with me to Unyanyembe, and rest there until 
I could provide him with the force he needed. To this, the last 
of many propositions made to him, he agreed. After exploring 
together the north end of Lake Tanganyika, and disproving 
the theory that the Lake had any connection with the Albert 
Nyanza, we set out from Ujiji, on the 27th December, 1871, 
and arrived at Unyanyembe on the i8th February, 1872. 

January 3, 1872. Had some modest sport among some 
zebras, and secured a quantity of meat, which will be useful. 
Livingstone, this afternoon, got upon his favourite topics, the 
Zambesi Mission, the Portuguese and Arab slave-trade, and 
these subjects invariably bring him to relate incidents about 
what he has witnessed of African nature and aptitudes. I con- 
clude, from the importance he attaches to these, that he is 
more interested in ethnology than in topographical geography. 
Though the Nile problem and the central line of drainage 
are frequently on his lips, they are second to the humanities 
observed on his wanderings, which, whether at the morning 
coffee, tiffin, or dinner, occupy him throughout the meal. 

The Manyuema women must have attracted him by their 
beauty, from which I gather that they must be superior to 
the average female native. He speaks of their large eyes, their 
intelligent looks, and pretty, expressive, arch ways. Then he 
refers to the customs at Cazembe's Court, and the kindness 
received from the women there. 

In a little while, I am listening to the atrocities of Taga- 
moyo, the half-caste Arab, who surrounded a Manyuema 
market, and, with his long-shirted followers, fired most mur- 
derous volleys on the natives as they were innocently chaf- 
fering about their wares. Then there is real passion in his Ian- 



274 HENRY M. STANLEY 

guage, and I fancy from the angry glitter in his eyes that, were 
it in his power, Tagamoyo and his gang should have a quick 
taste of the terror he has inspired among the simple peoples of 
Manyuema. He is truly pathetic when he describes the poor 
enchained slaves, and the unhappy beings whose necks he has 
seen galled by the tree-forks, lumbering and tottering along 
the paths, watched by the steady, cruel eyes of their drivers, 
etc., etc. 

The topics change so abruptly that I find it almost impos- 
sible to remember a tithe of them ; and they refer to things 
about which I know so little that it will be hard to make a 
summary of what I am told at each meal. One cannot always 
have his note-book handy, for we drop upon a subject so sud- 
denly, and often, in my interest, I forget what I ought to do. 
I must trust largely to the fact that I am becoming steeped in 
Livingstonian ideas upon everything that is African, from 
pity for the big-stomached picaninny, clinging to the waist- 
strings of its mother, to the missionary bishop, and the great 
explorers. Burton, Speke, and Baker. 

He is a strong man in every way, with an individual tenacity 
of character. His memory is retentive. How he can remember 
Whittier's poems, couplets out of which I hear frequently, as 
well as from Longfellow, I cannot make out. I do not think 
he has any of these books with him. But he recites them as 
though he had read them yesterday. 

March 3. Livingstone reverted again to his charges against 
the missionaries on the Zambesi, and some of his naval officers 
on the expedition. 

I have had some intrusive suspicions, thoughts that he was 
not of such an angelic temper as I believed him to be during 
my first month with him ; but, for the last month, I have been 
driving them steadily from my mind, or perhaps to be fair, he 
by his conversations, by his prayers, his actions, and a more 
careful weighing and a wider knowledge of all the circum- 
stances, assists me to extinguish them. Livingstone, with all his 
frankness, does not unfold himself at once ; and what he leaves 
untold may be just as vital to a righteous understanding of 
these disputes as what he has said. Some reparation I owe him 
for having been on the verge of prejudice before I even saw him. 
I expected, and was prepared, to meet a crusty misanthrope, 



THE FINDING OF LIVINGSTONE 275 

and I was on my guard that the first offence should not come 
from me; but I met a sweet opposite, and, by leaps and 
bounds, my admiration grew in consequence. When, how- 
ever, he reiterated his complaints against this man and the 
other, I felt the faintest fear that his strong nature was opposed 
to forgiveness, and that he was not so perfect as at the first 
blush of friendship I thought him. I grew shy of the recur- 
rent theme, lest I should find my fear confirmed. Had I left 
him at Ujiji, I should have lost the chance of viewing him 
on the march, and obtaining that more detailed knowledge I 
have, by which I am able to put myself into his place, and, 
feeling something of his feelings, to understand the position 
better. 

It was an ungrateful task to have to reproach the mission- 
aries for their over-zeal against the slave-traders, though he 
quite shared their hatred of the trade, and all connected with 
it ; but to be himself charged, as he was, with having been the 
cause of their militant behaviour, to be blamed for their neg- 
lect of their special duties, and for their follies, by the very 
men whom he has assisted and advised, was too much. 

But, in thinking that it was rather a weakness to dwell on 
these bitter memories, I forgot that he was speaking to me, 
who had reminded him of his experiences, and who pestered 
him with questions about this year and another, upon this 
topic and that ; and I thought that it was not fair to retaliate 
with inward accusations that he was making too much of these 
things, when it was my own fault. Then I thought of his lone- 
liness, and that to speak of African geography to a man 
who was himself in Africa, was not only not entertaining, but 
unnecessary ; and that to refuse to speak of personal events 
would, from the nature of a man, be imputed to him as reserve, 
and, perhaps, something worse. These things I revolved, 
caused by observations on his daily method of life, his pious 
habits, in the boat, the tent, and the house. 

At Kwikuru, just before the day we got our letters from 
Europe, I went to the cook Ulimengo, who was acting in 
Ferajji's place; and, being half-mad with the huge doses of 
quinine I had taken, and distressingly weak, I sharply scolded 
him for not cleaning his coffee-pots, and said that I tasted the 
verdigris in every article of food, and I violently asked if he 



276 HENRY M. STANLEY 

meant to poison us. I showed him the kettles and the pots, 
and the loathsome green on the rims. He turned to me with 
astounding insolence, and sneeringly asked if I was any better 
than the 'big master,' and said that what was good for him 
was good for me — the ' little master.' 

I clouted him at once, not only for his insolent question, 
but because I recognised a disposition to fight. Ulimengo 
stood up and laid hold of me. On freeing myself, I searched 
for some handy instrument; but, at this juncture, Living- 
stone came out of the tent, and cried out to Ulimengo, * Poli- 
poli-hapo ' [Gently there] ! What is the matter, Mr. Stanley ? ' 
Almost breathless between passion and quinine, I spluttered 
out my explanations. Then, lifting his right hand with the 
curved forefinger, he said, * I will settle this.' I stood quieted ; 
but, what with unsatisfied rage and shameful weakness, the 
tears rolled down as copiously as when a child. 

I heard him say, * Now, Ulimengo, you are a big fool : a big, 
thick-headed fellow. I believe you are a very wicked man. 
Your head is full of lying ideas. Understand me now, and 
open your ears. I am a Mgeni [guest] and only a Mgeni, and 
have nothing to do with this caravan. Everything in the 
camp is my friend's. The food I eat, the clothes on my back, 
the shirt I wear, all are his. All the bales and beads are his. 
What you put in that belly of yours comes from him, not from 
me. He pays your wages. The tent and the bed-clothes belong 
to him. He came only to help me, as you would help your 
brother or your father. I am only the " big master " because 
I am older ; but when we march, or stop, must be as he likes, 
not me. Try and get all that into that thick skull of yours, 
Ulimengo. Don't you see that he is very ill, you rascal ? Now, 
go and ask his pardon, Go on.' 

And Ulimengo said he was very sorry, and wanted to kiss 
my feet ; but I would not let him. 

Then Livingstone took me by the arm to the tent, saying, 
' Come now, you must not mind him. He is only a half-sav- 
age, and does not know any better. He is probably a Banyan 
slave. Why should you care what he says? They are all 
alike, unfeeling and hard ! ' 

Little by little, I softened down ; and, before night, I had 
shaken hands with Ulimengo. It is the memory of several 



THE FINDING OF LIVINGSTONE 277 

small events, which, though not worth recounting singly, 
muster in evidence and strike a lasting impression. 

'You bad fellow. You very wicked fellow. You blockhead. 
You fool of a man,' were the strongest terms he employed, 
where others would have clubbed, or clouted, or banned, and 
blasted. His manner was that of a cool, wise, old man, who 
felt offended, and looked grave. 

March 4, Sunday. Service at 9 A. m. Referring to his ad- 
dress to his men, after the Sunday service was over, he asked 
me what conclusions I had come to in regard to the African's 
power of receiving the gospel ? 

* Well, really, to tell you the truth, I have not thought much 
of it. The Africans appear to me very dense, and I suppose it 
will take some time before any headway will be made. It is a 
slow affair, I think, altogether. You do not seem to me to go 
about it in the right way — I do not mean you personally, 
but missionaries. I cannot see how one or two men can hope 
to make an impression on the minds of so many millions, when 
all around them is the whole world continuing in its own 
humdrum fashion, absorbed in its avocations, and utterly 
regardless of the tiny village, or obscure district, where the 
missionaries preach the gospel.' 

'How would you go about it?' he asked. 

' I would certainly have more than one or two missionaries. 
I would have a thousand, scattered not all over the continent, 
but among some great tribe or cluster of tribes, organised 
systematically, one or two for each village, so that though 
the outskirts of the tribe or area where the gospel was at work 
might be disturbed somewhat by the evil example of those out- 
side, all within the area might be safely and uninterruptedly 
progressing. Then, with the pupils who would be turned out 
from each village, there would be new forces to start else- 
where outside the area.' 

* In a way, that is just my opinion ; but someone must begin 
the work. Christ was the beginner of the Christianity that is 
now spread over a large part of the world, then came the 
Twelve Apostles, and then the Disciples. I feel, sometimes, 
as if I were the beginner for attacking Central Africa, and that 
others will shortly come ; and, after those, there will come the 
thousand workers that you speak of. 1 1 is very dark and dreary, 



278 HENRY M. STANLEY 

but the promise is, •' Commit thy way to the Lord, trust in Him, 
and He shall bring it to pass." I may fall by the way, being 
unworthy to see the dawning. I thought I had seen it when the 
Zambezi mission came out, but the darkness has settled again, 
darker than ever. It will come, though, it must come, and I 
do not despair of the day, one bit. The earth, that is the whole 
earth, shall be filled with the knowledge of the Lord, as the 
waters cover the sea. 

'Loneliness is a terrible thing, especially when I think of 
my children. I have lost a great deal of happiness, I know, by 
these wanderings. It is as if I had been born to exile ; but it is 
God's doing, and He will do what seemeth good in His own 
eyes. But when my children and home are not in my mind, I 
feel as though appointed to this work and no other. I am 
away from the perpetual hurry of civilisation, and I think I 
see far and clear into what is to come; and then I seem to 
understand why I was led away, here and there, and crossed 
and baffled over and over again, to wear out my years and 
strength. Why was it but to be a witness of the full horror of 
this slave-trade, which, in the language of Burns, is sending 
these pitiless half-castes 

"Like bloodhounds from the slip, 
With woe and murder o'er the land ! " 

* My business is to publish what I see, to rouse up those 
who have the power to stop it, once and for all. That is the 
beginning ; but, in the end, they will also send proper teachers 
of the gospel, some here, and some there, and what you think 
ought to be done will be done in the Lord's good time. 

"See, yonder, poor, o'er-laboured wight. 
So abject, mean, and vile! 
Who begs a brother of the earth 
To give him leave to toil ! " 

I have often quoted those lines of Burns to myself, on my 
travels in Manyuema, when I saw the trembling natives just 
on the run, when they suspected that we were Arabs about to 
take them from their homes and compel them to carry their 
stolen ivory. Oh, well, there is a good God above who takes 
note of these things, and will, at the proper moment, see that 
justice will be measured out to these monsters.' 



THE FINDING OF LIVINGSTONE 279 

March 13, 1872. This is the last day of my stay with dear 
old Livingstone ; the last night we shall be together is present, 
and I cannot evade the morrow. I feel as though I should like 
to rebel against the necessity of departure. The minutes beat 
fast, and grow into hours. Our door to-night is closed, and 
we both think our own thoughts. What his are, I know not 
— mine are sad. My days seem to have been spent far too 
happily, for, now that the last day is almost gone, I bitterly 
regret the approach of the parting hour. I now forget the 
successive fevers, and their agonies, and the semi-madness 
into which they often plunged me. The regret I feel now is 
greater than any pains I have endured. But I cannot resist 
the sure advance of time, which is flying to-night far too fast. 
What must be, must be! I have often parted with friends 
before, and remember how I lingered and wished to put it 
off, but the inevitable was not to be prevented. Fate came, 
and, at the appointed hour, stood between us. To-night I 
feel the same aching pain, but in a greater degree; and the 
farewell I fear may be for ever. For ever ? and ' For ever ' echo 
the reverberations of a woeful whisper ! 

I have received the thanks that he had repressed all these 
months in the secrecy of his heart, uttered with no mincing 
phrases, but poured out, as it were, at the last moment, until 
I was so affected that I sobbed, as one only can in uncommon 
grief. The hour of night and the crisis, — and oh ! as some 
dreadful doubts suggested the eternal parting, — his sudden 
outburst of gratitude, with that kind of praise that steals into 
one and touches the softer parts of the ever- veiled nature, — 
all had their influence ; and, for a time, I was as a sensitive 
child of eight or so, and yielded to such bursts of tears that 
only such a scene as this could have forced. 

I think it only needed this softening to secure me as his 
obedient and devoted servitor in the future, should there ever 
be an occasion where I could prove my zeal. 

On the 14th March, my expedition left Unyanyembe, he 
accompanying me for a few miles. We reached the slope of a 
ridge overlooking the valley, in the middle of which our house 
where we had lived together looked very small in the distance. 
I then turned to him and said, — 



280 HENRY M. STANLEY 

' My dear Doctor, you must go no further. You have come 
far enough. See, our house is a good distance now, and the 
sun is very hot. Let me beg of you to turn back.' 

'Well,' he replied, 'I will say this to you: you have done 
what few men could do. And for what you have done for me, 
I am most grateful. God guide you safe home and bless you, 
my friend ! ' 

'And may God bring you safe back to us all, my dear 
friend ! Farewell ! ' 

* Farewell ! ' he repeated. 

We wrung each other's hands, our faces flushed with emo- 
tion, tears rushing up, and blinding the eyes. We turned reso- 
lutely away from each other; but his faithful followers, by 
rushing up to give their parting words, protracted the painful 
scene. 

' Good-bye, all ! Good-bye, Doctor, dear friend ! * 

' Good-bye ! ' 

At the moment of parting, the old man's noble face slightly 
paled, which I knew to be from suppressed emotion, while, 
when I looked into his eyes, I saw there a kind of warning, to 
look well at him as a friend looks for the last time ; but the 
effort well-nigh unmanned me, — a little longer, and I should 
have utterly collapsed. We both, however, preferred dry eyes, 
and outward calm. 

From the crest of the ridge I turned to take a last long look 
at him, to impress his form on my mind ; then, waving a last 
parting signal, we descended the opposite slope on the home 
road. 

On the fifty-fourth day after leaving Dr. Livingstone, I 
arrived at Zanzibar. Two weeks later, that is on the 20th 
May, fifty-seven men, chosen people of good character, sailed 
from Zanzibar for the mainland, as the expeditionary force 
which was to accompany Livingstone for a period of two years 
for the completion of his task of exploration. They arrived at 
Unyanyembe on the nth August, 1872, having been eighty- 
two days on the road. 

Fourteen days later, Livingstone, amply equipped and 
furnished with men, means, medicines, and instruments, and 
a small herd of cattle, set out for the scene of his explorations. 
Eight months later, the heroic life came to its heroic end. 



THE FINDING OF LIVINGSTONE 281 

From an unpublished Memorial to Livingstone by Stanley, the 
following passages are taken. 

He preached no sermon, by word of mouth, while I was in 
company with him ; but each day of my companionship with 
him witnessed a sermon acted. The Divine instructions, given 
of old on the Sacred Mount, were closely followed, day by day, 
whether he rested in the jungle-camp, or bided in the traders' 
town, or savage hamlet. Lowly of spirit, meek in speech, 
merciful of heart, pure in mind, and peaceful in act, suspected 
by the Arabs to be an informer, and therefore calumniated, 
often offended at evils committed by his own servants, but 
ever forgiving, often robbed and thwarted, yet bearing no ill- 
will, cursed by the marauders, yet physicking their infirmities, 
most despitefully used, yet praying daily for all manner and 
condition of men ! Narrow, indeed, was the way of eternal life 
that he elected to follow, and few are those who choose it. 

Though friends became indiiferent to his fate, associates 
neglectful, and his servants mocked and betrayed him, 
though suitable substance was denied to him, and though the 
rain descended in torrents on him in his wanderings, and the 
tropic tempests beat him sore, and sickened him with their 
rigours, he toiled on, and laboured ever in the Divine service he 
had chosen, unyielding and unresting, for the Christian man's 
faith was firm that * all would come right at last.' 

Had my soul been of brass, and my heart of spelter, the 
powers of my head had surely compelled me to recognise, with 
due honour, the Spirit of Goodness which manifested itself in 
him. Had there been anything of the Pharisee or the hypo- 
crite in him, or had I but traced a grain of meanness or guile in 
him, I had surely turned away a sceptic. But my every-day 
study of him, during health or sickness, deepened my rever- 
ence and increased my esteem. He was, in short, consistently 
noble, upright, pious, and manly, all the days of my compan- 
ionship with him. 

He professed to be a Liberal Presbyterian. Presbyterianism 
I have heard of, and have read much about it; but Liberal 
Presbyterianism, — whence is it ? What special country 
throughout the British Isles is its birthplace? Are there any 
more disciples of that particular creed, or was Livingstone the 
last? Read by the light of this good man's conduct and 



282 HENRY M. STANLEY 

single-mindedness, its tenets would seem to be a compound of 

religious and practical precepts. 

' Whatever thy right hand findeth to do, do it with all thy 

might.' 

' By the sweat of thy brow thou shalt eat bread.* 

' For every idle word thou shalt be held accountable.' 

' Thou shalt worship the Lord thy God, and Him only shalt 

thou serve.' 

' Thou shalt not kill.' 
'Swear not at all.' 

* Be not slothful in business, but be fervent in spirit, and 
serve the Lord.' 

* Mind not high things, but condescend to men of low estate.' 
'Live peaceably with all men.' 

' We count those happy who endure.' 

' Remember them that are in bonds, and them which suffer 
adversity.' 

' Watch thou, in all things ; endure afflictions ; do the work 
of an evangelist ; make full proof of thy ministry.' 

' Whatsoever ye do, do it heartily.' 

' Set your affections on things above, not on things of the 
earth.' 

' Be kind to one another, tender-hearted, and forgiving.* 

* Preach the gospel in the regions beyond you, and boast not 
in another man's line, of things made ready to your hand.' 

I never discovered that there was any printed code of 
religious laws or moral precepts issued by his church, wherein 
these were specially alluded to ; but it grew evident during our 
acquaintance that he erred not against any of them. Greater 
might he could not have shown in this interminable explora- 
tion set him by Sir Roderick Murchison, because the work 
performed by him was beyond all proportion to his means and 
physical strength. What bread he ate was insufficient for his 
bodily nourishment, after the appalling fatigues of a march in 
a tropical land. 

His conversation was serious, his demeanour grave and 
earnest. Morn and eve he worshipped, and, at the end of every 
march, he thanked the Lord for His watchful Providence. On 
Sundays he conducted Divine Service, and praised the glory of 
the Creator, the True God, to his dark followers. His hand was 




DOCTOR LIVINGSTONE 



THE FINDING OF LIVINGSTONE 283 

clear of the stain of blood-guiltiness. Profanity was an abom- 
ination to him. He was not indolent either in his Master's 
service, or in the cause to which he was sacrificing himself. 
His life was an evidence that he served God with all his heart. 

Nothing in the scale of humanity can be conceived lower 
than the tribes of Manyuema with whom he daily conversed 
as a friend. Regardless of such honours as his country gener- 
ally pays to exceeding merit, he continued his journeyings, 
bearing messages of peace wherever he went; and when he 
rested, chief and peasant among the long-neglected tribes 
ministered to his limited wants. Contented with performing 
his duty according as he was enabled to, such happiness as 
can be derived from righteous doings, pure thoughts, and a 
clear conscience, was undoubtedly his. His earnest labours for 
the sake of those in bonds, and the unhappy people who were 
a prey to the Arab kidnapper and land pirate, few will forget. 
The number of his appeals, the constant recurrence to the 
dismal topic, and the long Hnes of his travels, may be accepted 
as proofs of his heartiness and industry. 

He was the first to penetrate to those lands in the Cham- 
bezi and the Lualaba valleys; his was the first voice heard 
speaking in the hamlets of Eastern Sunda of the beauties of 
the Christian religion ; and he was the first preacher who dared 
denounce the red-handed Arab for his wickedly aggressive 
acts. In regions beyond ken of the most learned geographers 
of Europe, he imitated the humility of the Founder of his 
religion, and spoke in fervent strains of the Heavenly message 
of peace and good-will. 

Should I ever return to the scenes that we knew together, 
my mind would instantaneously revert to the good man whom 
I shall never see more. Be it a rock he sat upon, a tree upon 
which he rested, ground that he walked upon, or a house that 
he dwelt in, my first thought would naturally be that it was 
associated with him. But my belief is that they would flush 
my mind with the goodness and nobleness of his expression, 
appealing to me, though so silently, to remember, and con- 
sider, and strive. 

I remember well when I gazed at Ujiji, five years later, from 
the same hill as where I had announced the coming of my 
caravan : I had not been thinking much of him until that mo- 



284 HENRY M. STANLEY 

ment, when, all at once, above the palm grove of UjijI, and the 
long broad stretch of blue water of the lake beyond, loomed the 
form of Livingstone, in the well-remembered blue-grey coat 
of his marching costume, and the blue naval cap, gold-banded, 
regarding me with eyes so trustful, and face so grave and sad. 

It is the expression of him that so follows and clings to me, 
and, indeed, is ever present when I think of him, though it is 
difficult to communicate to others the expression that I first 
studied and that most attracted me. There was an earnest 
gravity in it ; life long ago shorn of much of its beauty — I may 
say of all its vulgar beauty and coarser pleasures, a mind long 
abstracted from petty discontents, by preference feeding on 
itself, almost glorifying in itself as all-sufficient to produce 
content; therefore a composure settled, calm, and trustful. 

Even my presence was impotent to break him from his 
habit of abstraction. I might have taken a book to read, and 
was silent. If I looked up a few minutes later, I discovered 
him deeply involved in his own meditations, right forefinger 
bent, timing his thoughts, his eyes gazing far away into in- 
definite distance, brows puckered closely — face set, and reso- 
lute, now and then lips moving, silently framing words. 

' What can he be thinking about ? ' I used to wonder, and 
once I ventured to break the silence with, — 

' A penny for your thoughts, Doctor.' 

* They are not worth it, my young friend, and let me suggest 
that, if I had any, possibly, I should wish to keep them ! ' 

After which I invariably let him alone when in this mood. 
Sometimes these thoughts were humorous, and, his face 
wearing a smile, he would impart the reason with some comic 
story or adventure. 

I have met few so quickly responsive to gaiety and the 
lighter moods, none who was more sociable, genial, tolerant, 
and humorous. You must think of him as a contented soul, 
who had yielded himself with an entire and loving submission, 
and who laboured to the best of his means and ability, awak- 
ening to the toil of the day, and resigning himself, without the 
least misgiving, to the rest of the night ; believing that the 
effect of his self-renunciation would not be altogether barren. 

If you can comprehend such a character, you will under- 
stand Livingstone's motive principle. 



CHAPTER XIV 
ENGLAND AND COOMASSIE 

IT is not unadvisedly that the last chapter has been devoted 
almost as much to Livingstone as to Stanley. The main story 
of Stanley's quest he has told effectively elsewhere ; ^ and in his 
interior life, which is the central theme of the present book, his in- 
tercourse with Livingstone was no small factor. The way he knew 
and loved Livingstone reveals Stanley. But to give the whole story 
of those sixteen months its true perspective, the reader should either 
turn to the full narrative, or should, at least, give some little play 
to his own imagination. 

The few lines given to the contest with Mirambo represent months 
of struggle with a bandit-chief, and with slippery allies. 

The three-line mention of the joint exploration of Lake Tangan- 
yika stands for four weeks of adventurous voyaging, geographical 
discovery, and encounters with hostile or thievish natives. Through 
the whole period Stanley carried an immense and varied responsi- 
bility. He was not only commander, and chief of staff, but the whole 
staff. The discipline, commissariat, and medical care, of a force 
often numbering two hundred and more, all fell on him. For his 
followers he had to take the part of doctor, and occasionally of 
nurse, sometimes including the most menial offices. Often he was 
prostrated by fever, and once, before finding Livingstone, he lay 
unconscious for a week. 

Problems of war and diplomacy confronted him. Shall he pay 
tribute, or resist? Shall he join forces with the friendly tribes, and 
fight the fierce and powerful Mirambo who blocks the way to Ujiji? 
He fights, and his allies fail him at the pinch ; so then he resorts to a 
long flanking march through unknown country, and literally cir- 
cumvents his foes. So, for over a year, every faculty is kept at the 
highest tension. 

Along with the developing effect of the experience, comes the 
solitary communing with Nature, which brings a spiritual exaltation. 
Then follows the companionship with Livingstone, a man of heroic 
and ideal traits, uniquely educated by the African wilds ; these two 
learn to know each other by the searching test of hourly compan- 
ionship, amid savages, perils, perplexities, days of adventure, nights 
of intimate converse; Stanley's deepest feelings finding worthy 
object and full response in the man he had rescued, and sugges- 
tions of spiritual and material resources in the unknown continent, 

^ In How I Found Livingstone. 



286 HENRY M. STANLEY 

destined to germinate and bear fruit; — all this his first African 
exploration brought to Stanley. 

His return to civilisation was not altogether a genial home-com- 
ing. In a way, he had been more at home in Africa than he found 
himself in England. There his companionship had been with Na-, 
ture, with Livingstone, with his own spirit; the difficulties and 
dangers confronting him had been a challenge to which his full 
powers made response ; and ' the free hand,' so dear to a strong man, 
had been his. Now he was plunged into a highly-artificial society ; 
its trappings and paraphernalia, its formal dinners, and ceremonies, 
were distasteful to him ; above all, he was thrust into a prominence 
which brought far more pain than pleasure. 

A flood of importunate, or inquisitive, letters from strangers 
poured in on him; he notes that in one morning he has received 
twenty-eight. Relatives and acquaintances of his early years be- 
came suddenly affectionate and acquisitive; greedy claims were 
made on his purse, which he would not wholly reject. Worst of all, 
with the acclamations of the public which greeted him, were mingled 
expressions of doubt or disbelief, innuendoes, sneers! Men, and 
journals, of high standing, were among the sceptics. 

Sir Henry Rawlinson, President of the Royal Geographical So- 
ciety, wrote to the ' Times ' that it was not true that Stanley had 
discovered Livingstone, but that Livingstone had discovered Stan- 
ley! The silly quip had currency long after Sir Henry Rawlinson 
had changed his tone ; and the Society had passed a vote of thanks to 
Stanley. The 'Standard,' in oracular tones, called for the sifting of 
the discoverer's story by experts; it 'could not resist some suspi- 
cions and misgivings ' ; it found ' something inexplicable and mys- 
terious ' in the business ! There were those who publicly questioned 
the authenticity of letters which, at Stanley's suggestion, Living- 
stone had written to the 'Herald.' 

Geographical pundits mixed their theoretic speculations with 
slighting personal remarks. Perhaps no great and eminent body of 
scholars escapes a touch of the Mutual- Admiration Society; there 
are shibboleths of nationality, of social class, of clan and coterie ; and 
when an outsider steps on the stage, there is solemn wrinkling of 
official foreheads, and lifting of distinguished eyebrows. So from the 
' Royal Geographical ' some chill whiff s blew towards this 'American,' 
who brought strange tidings from Africa. To Stanley, sensitive, 
high-strung, conscious of hard work, loyally done and faithfully 
reported, not hungry for fame, but solicitous of trust and confidence, 
all this was intensely bitter. 

There was a field-day at Brighton at the meeting of the Geogra- 
phical Section of the British Association, under the presidency of Mr. 
(now. Sir) Francis Gal ton. Stanley was the central figure of the occa- 
sion. He spoke to an audience of three thousand, with a group 
of great geographers, and Eminences of high degree, including the 
ex-Emperor and Empress of the French. The 'Telegraph's' report 



ENGLAND AND COOMASSIE 287 

describes him as speaking with entire self-possession, with composure, 
with a natural and effective oratory, and ' with the evident purpose 
to speak his mind to everybody, without the slightest deference, 
or hesitation.' 

B ut, in his Journal, he records that his stage-fright was so extreme 
he could only begin after three trials. At the request of the * Royal 
Geographical,' he had prepared a brief paper, dealing only with the. 
exploration of the north end of Lake Tanganyika. But, unexpect- 
edly, he was called on to give some account of his whole expedition. 

He told his story, and read his paper. A general discussion fol- 
lowed, turning mainly on certain geographical questions ; and, at the 
end, Stanley was called on for some final words, and ' winged words ' 
they were, of passionate ardour and directness. On some of the 
geographical opinions, there was criticism ; and a special attack was 
made on the theory to which Livingstone inclined, that the river 
Lualaba was the source of the Nile. Stanley had grave doubts of 
that theory, which he was destined ultimately to disperse ; but, for 
Livingstone's sake, he wanted it treated at least with respect. 

In the discussion there were allusions to himself, perhaps tactless 
rather than intentional ; as when Mr. (now. Sir) Francis Gal ton re- 
marked that they were not met to listen to sensational stories, but 
to serious facts ! Whether malicious, or only maladroit, such allusions 
were weighted by what had gone before in the Press. 

Stanley summed up with a fervent eulogy of Livingstone, and a 
biting comparison of the arm-chair geographer, waking from his 
nap, to dogmatise about the Nile, with the gallant old man seeking 
the reality for years, amid savage and elemental foes. 

One cannot doubt that his own essential veracity and manliness 
stamped themselves on the minds of his audience ; and, in truth, the 
great preponderance of intelligent opinion seems to have been, from 
the first, wholly in his favour. The 'Times,' the ' Daily News,' the 
' Daily Telegraph,' and 'Punch,' were among his champions. Liv- 
ingstone's own family gratefully acknowledged his really immense 
services, and confirmed beyond question the genuineness of Liv- 
ingstone's letters brought home by Stanley, so confounding those 
who had charged him with forgery. Lord Granville, at the Foreign 
Office, sent him, on the Queen's behalf, a note of congratulation, 
and a gold snuff-box set with diamonds ; and, in a word, the world 
at large accepted him, then and thenceforward, as a true man and 
a hero. 

But Stanley suffered so keenly and so long, not only at the time, 
but afterwards, from the misrepresentation and calumny he en- 
countered, that a word more should be given to the subject. The 
hostility had various sources. In America, the ' New York Herald,' 
always an aggressive, self-assertive, and successful newspaper, had 
plenty of journalistic foes. 

A former employee of Stanley's, whose behaviour had caused 
serious trouble, and brought proper punishment on him, gained the 



288 HENRY M. STANLEY 

ear of a prominent editor, who gave circulation to the grossest 
falsehoods. In later years, other subordinates, whom Stanley's just 
and necessary discipline had offended, became his persistent calum- 
niators. The wild scenes of his explorations, and the stimulus their 
wonders gave to the imagination, acted sometimes like a tropical 
swamp, whence springs fetid and poisonous vegetation. Stories 
of cruelty and horror seemed to germinate spontaneously. Stanley 
himself laid stress on the propensity in average human nature 
to noxious gossip, and the pandering to this taste by a part of the 
Press. 

It is to be remembered, too, that the circumstances of his early 
life heightened his sensitiveness to gossiping curiosity and crude 
misrepresentation. And, finally, he had in his nature much of the 
woman, the Ewigweibliche ; he craved fame far less than love and 
confidence. 

Renown, as it came, he accepted, not with indifference, — he 
was too human for that, — but with tempered satisfaction. He met 
praise in the fine phrase Morley quotes from Gladstone, * as one 
meets a cooling breeze, enjoyed, but not detained.' The pain which 
slander brought he turned to account, setting it as a lesson to him- 
self not to misjudge others. His thoughts upon his own experience 
may be sufficiently shewn by an extract from one of his Note-books. 

The vulgar, even hideous, nonsense, the number and variety 
of untruths published about me, from this time forth taught 
me, from pure sympathy, reflection, and conviction, to modify 
my judgement about others. 

When anyone is about to become an object of popular, i. e., 
newspaper censure, I have been taught to see how the 
scavenger-beetles of the Press contrive to pick up an infini- 
tesimal grain of fact, like the African mud-rolling beetle, until 
it becomes so monstrously exaggerated that it is absolutely 
a mass of filth. 

The pity of it is that most of the writers forget for whom 
they write. We are not all club-loungers, or drawing-room 
gossips ; nor are we all infected with the prevailing madness of 
believing everything we see in the newspapers. We do not ail 
belong to that large herd of unthinking souls who say, ' Surely, 
where there is so much smoke, there must be a fire ' ; those 
stupid souls who never knew that, as likely as not, the fire was 
harmless enough, and that the alarming cloud of smoke was 
owing to the reporter's briarwood ! 

Therefore I say, the instant I perceive, whether in the Press, 
or in Society, a charge levelled at some person, countryman, 



ENGLAND AND COOMASSIE 289 

or foreigner, I put on the brake of reason, to prevent my being 
swept along by the general rage for scandal and abuse, and 
hold myself unconscious of the charge until it is justified by 
conviction. 

All the actions of my life, and I may say all my thoughts, 
since 1872, have been strongly coloured by the storm of abuse 
and the wholly unjustifiable reports circulated about me then. 
So numerous were my enemies, that my friends became dumb, 
and I had to resort to silence, as a protection against outrage. 

It is the one good extracted from my persecution that, ever 
since, I have been able to restrain myself from undertaking 
to pass sentence on another whom I do not know. No man 
who addresses himself to me is permitted to launch judgement 
out in that rash, impetuous newspaper way, without being 
made to reflect that he knew less about the matter than he had 
assumed he did. 

This change in me was not immediate. The vice of reckless, 
unthinking utterance was not to be suddenly extirpated. 
Often, as I opened my mouth in obedience to the impulse, I 
was arrested by the self-accusation, ' Ah ! there you go, silly 
and uncharitable as ever ! ' It was slow unlearning, but the old 
habit was at last supplanted by the new. 

Stanley bore himself in the spirit of the words which F. W. H. 
Myers ^ applies to Wordsworth : — 

' He who thus is arrogantly censured should remember both the 
dignity and the frailty of man, . . . and go on his way with no bitter 
broodings, but yet . . , "with a melancholy in the soul, a sinking 
inward into ourselves from thought to thought, a steady remon- 
strance, and a high resolve." ' 

In the months following his return to England, alternating with 
indignant protests against misrepresentation, his Journal records 
many public and private hospitalities, and meetings with eminent 
and interesting people, on some of whom he makes shrewd and 
appreciative comment. One portraiture cannot be omitted, — his 
impressions of Queen Victoria. The first occasion on which he was 
received by Her Majesty was at Dunrobin Castle, when he visited 
the Duke of Sutherland, in company with Sir Henry Rawlinson, who 
did his best to make amends for his early doubts. 

Monday, loth September, 1872. About noon, we had got 
ready for our reception by the Queen. Sir Henry had been 

* Wordsworth, by F. W. H. Myers; in the 'English Men of Letters' series. 



290 HENRY M. STANLEY 

careful in instructing me how to behave in the Presence, that 
I had to kneel and kiss hands, and, above all, I was not to talk, 
or write, about what I should see or hear. I almost laughed in 
his face when he charged me with the last, for I doubt whether 
the Queen's daughter would be less apt for gossip about such 
things than I. As for kneeling, I was pleased to forget it. We 
stood for a while in a gay salon, and presently Her Majesty, 
followed by Princess Beatrice, entered. We all bowed most 
profoundly, and the Queen advancing. Sir Henry introduced 
me in a short sentence. I regarded her with many feelings, first 
as the greatest lady in the land, the mistress of a great Empire, 
the head of brave soldiers and sailors whom I had seen in vari- 
ous lands and seas, the central figure to which Englishmen 
everywhere looked with eyes of love and reverence; and, 
lastly, as that mysterious personage whom I had always heard 
spoken of, ever since I could understand anything, as * The 
Queen.' And poor, blind Sir Henry, to think that I would ven- 
ture to speak or write about this lady, whom in my heart of 
hearts, next to God, I worshipped ! Besides, only of late, she 
has honoured me with a memorial, which is the more priceless 
that it was given when so few believed me. 

The word ' Majesty' does not rightly describe her bearing. 
I have often seen more majestic creatures, but there was an 
atmosphere of conscious potency about her which would have 
marked her in any assemblage, even without the trappings of 
Royalty. The word ' Royal ' aptly describes another char- 
acteristic which clung to her. Short in stature as she is, and 
not majestic, the very carriage of her person bespeaks the fact 
of her being aware of her own inviolability and unapproach- 
ableness. It was far from being haughty, and yet it was com- 
manding, and serenely proud. 

The conversation, which was principally about Livingstone 
and Africa, though it did not last more than ten minutes, gave 
me abundant matter to think about, from having had such 
good opportunities to look into her eyes, and absorb as it were 
my impressions, such as they were. 

What I admired most was the sense of power the eyes 
revealed, and a quiet, but unmistakeable, kindly condescen- 
sion ; and an inimitable calmness and self-possession. I was 
glad to have seen her, not only for the honour, and all that, but 



ENGLAND AND COOMASSIE 291 

also, I think, because I have carried something away to muse 
over at leisure. I am richer in the understanding of power and 
dominion, sitting enthroned on human features. 

He began in England his career as a public lecturer, and in pur- 
suance of it went, in November, 1872, to America. He was re- 
ceived with high honours by the public, and with great cordiality 
by his old friends; was given a warm welcome by * the boys,' the 
sub-editors of the 'Herald,' and was banqueted by the Union 
League Club, and the St. Andrew's Society, etc., etc. Then he 
spent several months in travelling and lecturing. 

Returning to England, before the clear summons came to his next 
great exploration, he once more, as correspondent of the ' Herald,' 
accompanied and reported the British campaign against the Ashan- 
tees, in 1873-74. That warlike and savage people, under King 
Coffee, had been harrying the Fantees, who had lately come 
under the British Protectorate, as occupying the ' hinterland ' of 
Elmina on the Gold Coast, which England had taken over from 
the Dutch. 

At intervals for half a century there had been harassing and fu- 
tile collisions with the Ashantees, and it was now determined to strike 
hard. ' In 1823, Sir Charles McCarthy and six hundred gallant fel- 
lows perished before the furious onset of the Ashantees, and that 
brave soldier's skull, gold-rimmed and highly venerated, was said 
still to be at Coomassie, used as a drinking-cup by King Coffee. 

' In 1863-64, the English suffered severe loss. Couran marched to 
the Prah, eighty miles from here, and marched back again, being 
obliged to bury or destroy his cannon, and hurriedly retreat to the 
Cape Coast.' 

Stanley gave permanent form to his record in the first half of his 
book, 'Coomassie and Magdala' (1874). This campaign on the 
West Coast, under Sir Garnet Wolseley, was like, and yet unlike, 
the Abyssinian expedition on the East Coast, under Sir Robert 
Napier. The march inland was only one hundred and forty miles, 
but, instead of the grand and lofty mountains of Abyssinia, the 
British soldiers and sailors had to cut their way through unbroken 
jungle. Stanley's book is the spirited story of a well-conducted ex- 
pedition, told with a firm grasp of the historical and political situa- 
tion, with graphic sketches of the English officers, some of an heroic 
type, and with descriptions of a repulsive type of savagery. 

Writing of the march, Stanley says: — 

What languishing heaviness of soul fills a man, as he, a mere 
mite in comparison, travels through the lofty and fearful forest 
aisle. If alone, there is an almost palpable silence, and his 
own heart-pulsations seem noisy. A night darkness envelops 



292 HENRY M. STANLEY 

him, and, from above, but the faintest gleams of daylight can 
be seen. A brooding melancholy seems to rest on the face of 
nature, and the traveller, be he ever so prosaic, is filled with 
a vague indefinable sense of foreboding. 

The enemy lay hiding in wait, in the middle of a thorny 
jungle, so dense in some places that one wonders how naked 
men can risk their unprotected bodies. This vast jungle 
literally chokes the earth with its density and luxuriance. It 
admits every kind of shrub, plant, and flower, into a close 
companionship, where they intermingle each other's luxuri- 
ant stalks, where they twine and twine each other's long slen- 
der arms about one another, and defy the utmost power of 
the sun to penetrate the leafy tangle they have reared ten 
and fifteen feet above the dank earth. This is the bush into 
which the Ashantee warriors creep on all fours, and lie in 
wait in the gloomy recesses for the enemy. It was in such 
localities Sir Garnet found the Ashantees, and where he suf- 
fered such loss in his Staff and officers. Until the sonorous 
sounds of Danish musketry * suddenly awoke the echoes, few 
of us suspected the foe so near; until they betrayed their 
presence, the English might have searched in vain for the 
hidden enemy. Secure as they were in their unapproachable 
coverts, our volleys, which their loud-mouthed challenge 
evoked, searched many a sinister-looking bush, and in a 
couple of hours effectually silenced their fire. 

The fighting, when it came, was stubborn. King Theodore's 
warriors had shewn no such mettle as did the Ashantees, who, for 
five continuous days, waged fierce fight. On the first day, with the 
42nd Highlanders, the Black Watch, bearing the brunt, and the 
whole force engaged, the battle of Amoaful was won ; then three 
days of straggling fighting ; finally, on the fifth day, with the Rifle 
Brigade taking its turn at the post of honour, and Lord Gifford's 
Scouts always in front, the decisive battle of Ordahsu was won, and 
Coomassie was taken. In the Capital were found ghastly relics of 
wholesale slaughters, incidents of fetish-worship, which far outdid 
the horrors of King Theodore's court. 

We are unable to realise, or are liable to forget, what Africa ' 
was before the advent of Explorers and Expeditions. The Fall of 
Coomassie, though attended with great loss of life, put an end to 
indescribable horrors and atrocities. 

Stanley writes: — 

* The natives used old Danish muskets. 



ENGLAND AND COOMASSIE 293 

Each village had placed its human sacrifice in the middle 
of the path, for the purpose of affrighting the conquerors. 
The sacrifice was of either sex, sometimes a young man, 
sometimes a woman. The head, severed from the body, was 
turned to meet the advancing army, the body was evenly laid 
out with the feet towards Coomassie. This meant, no doubt, 
'Regard this face, white man, ye whose feet are hurrying on 
to our capital, and learn the fate awaiting you.' 

Coomassie is a town insulated by a deadly swamp. A thick jungly 
forest — so dense that the sun seldom pierced the foliage ; so sickly 
that the strongest fell victims to the malaria it cherished — sur- 
rounded it to a depth of about one hundred and forty miles seaward, 
and one hundred miles to the north ; many hundred miles east and 
west. 

Through this forest and swamp, unrelieved by any novelty or 
a single pretty landscape, the British Army had to march one hun- 
dred and forty miles, leaving numbers stricken down by fever and 
dysentery — the terrible allies of the Ashantee King with his one 
hundred thousand warriors. 

Stanley, speaking of Coomassie, writes : — 

The grove, which was but a continuation of the tall forest 
we had travelled through, penetrated as far as the great 
market-place. A narrow foot-path led into this grove, where 
the foul smells became suffocating. After some thirty paces 
we arrived before the dreadful scene, but it was almost im- 
possible to stop longer than to take a general view of the great 
Golgotha. We saw some thirty or forty decapitated bodies 
in the last stages of corruption, and countless skulls, which 
lay piled in heaps, and scattered over a wide extent. The 
stoutest heart and the most stoical mind might have been 
appalled. 

At the rate of a thousand victims a year, it would be no 
exaggeration to say, that over one hundred and twenty 
thousand people must have been slain for ' custom,* since 
Ashantee became a kingdom. 

Lord Wolseley wrote : ' Their capital was a charnel-house ; their 
religion a combination of cruelty and treachery; their policy the 
natural outcome of their religion.' 

Terms of submission were imposed on King Coffee, and the force 
returned to the coast. 

Stanley writes of Lord Wolseley : — 



294 HENRY M. STANLEY 

He has done his best, and his best has been a mixture of 
untiring energy and determination; youthful ardour, toned 
down by the sense of his grave responsibilities, excellent 
good-nature, which nothing seems to damp ; excessive amia- 
bility, by which we are all benefitted ; wise forethought, which, 
assisted by his devotion to work, proves that the trust re- 
posed in him by the British Government will not be betrayed. 

Stanley occasionally criticises with freedom, both the Government, 
for not taking a larger view of the whole situation, and Sir Garnet 
Wolseley, for a somewhat hasty settlement of the business, after the 
fighting was over. 

Stanley's political foresight and desire for the promotion of 
civilisation and commerce, even in such a benighted part of West 
Africa, is well exemplified by the following passage : — 

If we are wise, we will deprive our present enemy of their 
king, attach to ourselves these brave and formidable warriors, 
and through them open the whole of Central Africa to trade 
and commerce and the beneficent influences of civilisation. 
The Romans would have been delighted at such an oppor- 
tunity of extending their power, for the benefit of themselves 
and the world at large. 

Nothing in Stanley's book indicates that he took any personal 
share in the fighting. But in Lord Wolseley's ' Story of a Soldier's 
Life,' volume ii, p. 342, occurs this passage: 'Not twenty yards off 
were several newspaper correspondents. One was Mr. Winwood 
Reid, a very cool and daring man, who had gone forward with the 
fighting-line. Of the others, one soon attracted my attention by his 
remarkable coolness. It was Sir Henry Stanley, the famous traveller. 
A thoroughly good man, no noise, no danger ruffled his nerve, and 
he looked as cool and self-possessed as if he had been at target prac- 
tice. Time after time, as I turned in his direction, I saw him go 
down to a kneeling position to steady his rifle, as he plied the most 
daring of the enemy with a never-failing aim. It is nearly thirty 
years ago, and I can still see before me the close-shut lips, and de- 
termined expression of his manly face, which, when he looked in my 
direction, told plainly I had near me an Englishman in plain clothes, 
whom no danger could appall. Had I felt inclined to run away, the 
cool, unflinching manliness of that face would have given me fresh 
courage. I had been previously somewhat prejudiced against him, 
but all such feelings were slain and buried at Amoaf ul. Ever since, 
I have been proud to reckon him amongst the bravest of my brave 
comrades ; and I hope he may not be offended if I add him amongst 
my best friends also.' 



ENGLAND AND COOMASSIE 295 

It was on his way home from the Ashantee War that the tidings 
met Stanley, which he accepted and acted upon as a summons to his 
real Hfe's work. 

25th February, 1874. Arrived at the Island of St. Vincent, 
per 'Dromedary,' I was shocked to hear, on getting ashore, 
of the death of Livingstone at Ilala, near Lake Bangweolo, on 
May 4th, 1873. His body is on its way to England, on board 
the * Malwa,' ^ from Aden. Dear Livingstone! another sacri- 
fice to Africa ! His mission, however, must not be allowed to 
cease ; others must go forward and fill the gap. ' Close up, boys ! 
close up ! Death must find us everywhere. * 

May I be selected to succeed him in opening up Africa to the 
shining light of Christianity ! My methods, however, will not 
be Livingstone's. Each man has his own way. His, I think, 
had its defects, though the old man, personally, has been 
almost Christ-like for goodness, patience, and self-sacrifice. 
The selfish and wooden-headed world requires mastering, as 
well as loving charity ; for man is a composite of the spiritual 
and earthly. May Livingstone's God be with me, as He was 
with Livingstone in all his loneliness. May God direct me as 
He wills. I can only vow to be obedient, and not to slacken. 

* The 'Malwa' arrived at Southampton on April i6, 1874. 



CHAPTER XV 
THROUGH THE DARK CONTINENT 

IN a camp in the heart of Africa, not far from Lake 
Bangweolo, David Livingstone, the traveller-evangeHst, 
lay dead. His followers, numbering about three-score 
negroes of Zanzibar, deliberated upon their future movements. 
To return to the coast ruled by their Sultan, without their 
great white master, would provoke grave suspicion. They 
resolved to prepare the remains so as to be fit for transpor- 
tation across a breadth of tropical region which extended to 
the Indian Ocean, fifteen hundred miles. After many weary 
months of travel, they arrived at the sea-coast with the body. 
In charge of two of the faithful band, it was placed on board 
a homeward-bound steamer, to be finally deposited ^ in a vault 
in Westminster Abbey. 

At the same period when the steamer coasted along the 
shores of Eastern Africa, I was returning to England along the 
coast of Western Africa, from the Ashantee campaign. 

At St. Vincent, on February 25th, 1874, cable news of the 
death of Livingstone, substantiated beyond doubt, was put 
into my hands. 

'At Lake Bangweolo the death occurred,' said the cable- 
gram. Just one thousand miles south of Nyangwe ! The great 
river remains, then, a mystery still, for poor Livingstone's 
work is unfinished ! 

Fatal Africa ! One after another, travellers drop away. It is 
such a huge continent, and each of its secrets is environed by so 
many difficulties, — the torrid heat, the miasma exhaled from 
the soil, the noisome vapours enveloping every path, the giant 
cane-grass suffocating the wayfarer, the rabid fury of the 
native guarding every entry and exit, the unspeakable misery 
of the life within the wild continent, the utter absence of 
every comfort, the bitterness which each day heaps upon the 
poor white man's head, in that land of blackness, the som- 

* On Saturday, April 18, 1874. 



THROUGH THE DARK CONTINENT 297 

brous solemnity pervading every feature of it, and the little 
— too little — promise of success which one feels on enter- 
ing it. 

But, never mind, I will try it ! Indeed, I have a spur to goad 
me on. My tale of the discovery of Livingstone has been 
doubted. What I have already endured in that accursed 
Africa amounts to nothing, in men's estimation. Here, then, 
is an opportunity for me to prove my veracity, and the gen- 
uineness of my narrative ! 

Let me see : Livingstone died in endeavouring to solve the 
problem of the Lualaba River. John Hanning Speke died by 
a gun-shot wound during a discussion as to whether Lake 
Victoria was one lake, as he maintained it to be ; or whether, 
as asserted by Captain Burton, James McQueen, and other 
theorists, it consisted of a cluster of lakes. 

Lake Tanganyika, being a sweet-water lake, must naturally 
possess an outlet somewhere. It has not been circumnavigated 
and is therefore unexplored. I will settle that problem also. 

Then I may be able to throw some light on Lake Albert. 
Sir Samuel Baker voyaged along some sixty miles of its north- 
eastern shore, but he said it was illimitable to the south-west. 
To know the extent of that lake would be worth some trouble. 
Surely, if I can resolve any of these, which such travellers as 
Dr. Livingstone, Captains Burton, Speke, and Grant, and Sir 
Samuel Baker left unsettled, people must needs believe that 
I discovered Livingstone ! 

A little while after the burial * of Livingstone at Westmin- 
ster, I strolled over to the office of the * Daily Telegraph,' and 
pointed out to the proprietors how much remained shrouded 
in mystery in Dark Africa. 

The proprietor asked, * But do you think you can settle all 
these interesting geographical problems ? * 

' Nay, Mr. Lawson, that is not a fair question. I mean to 
say I can do my level best, that nothing on my part shall be 
lacking to make a systematic exploration which shall embrace 
all the regions containing these secrets ; but Africa includes so 
many dangers from man, beast, and climate, that it would be 
the height of immeasurable conceit to say I shall be successful. 

^ For a full account of the funeral obsequies, see the Memoir prefacing Stanley's book, 
How I Found Livingstone. 



298 HENRY M. STANLEY 

My promise that I will endeavour to be even with my word, 
must be accepted by you as sufficient.' 

' Well, well ! I will cable over to Bennett of the New York 
"Herald," and ask if he is willing to join in this expedition of 
yours.' 

Deep under the Atlantic, the question was flashed. Gordon 
Bennett tore open the telegram in New York City, and, after 
a moment's thought, snatched a blank form and wrote, * Yes ! 
Bennett.' 

This was the answer put into my hand the same day at 
135, Fleet Street. You may imagine my feelings, as I read the 
simple monosyllable which was my commission : bales, pack- 
ages, boxes, trunks, bills, letters, flowing in a continuous 
stream; the writing, telegraphing, and nervous hurry and 
flurry of each day's work, until we sailed ! Follow me in 
thought to the deck of the steam-ferry across the English 
Channel ; fancy that you hear my plucky fisher-boys from the 
Med way, ^ saying to the white cliffs of Dover, 'Good-bye, 
dear England! and if for ever, then for ever good-bye, O 
England ! ' Think of us a few weeks later, arrived at Zanzi- 
bar, where we make our final preparations for the long journey 
we are about to make. 

Zanzibar is an island, as I suppose you know, situate 
three hundred and sixty-nine miles south of the Equator, and 
about twenty miles from the eastern mainland. 

Its ruler is Prince Barghash, son of Sayed. His subjects are 
very mixed, and represent the rasping and guttural Arab, the 
soft-tongued and languid Balooch, the fiery-eyed and black- 
bearded Omanee, the flowing-locked and tall-hatted Persian, 
the lithe, slim-waisted Somali, and at least a hundred speci- 
mens of the African tribes. 

It was in the bazaars and shops of the principal city that 
we bought the cottons, the various beads, the coils of brass 
wire, the tools, cordage, ammunition, and guns. It was in a 
house at Zanzibar that we rolled these cloths into seventy- 
pound bales, sacked the beads in similar weights, packed the 
wire, and boxed the ammunition and tools. Meantime we 
enlisted three hundred and fifty-six chosen fellows. They left 

^ Francis and Edward Pocock, who, with Frederick Barker, were his only white 
companions in the expedition. All three did gallant work, and not one returned. — D. S. 



THROUGH THE DARK CONTINENT 299 

their porter- work, gossiping in the bazaar, the care of their 
fields and gardens without the town, to become sworn followers 
of the Anglo-American expedition, to carry its loads at so 
much per month, in any direction on the mainland I should 
wish ; to stand by the master in times of trouble, to die with 
him, if necessary. I also, on my part, swore to treat them 
kindly ; to medicate them, if sick or bilious ; to judge honestly 
and impartially between man and man in their little camp 
squabbles ; to prevent ill-treatment of the weak by the strong ; 
to be a father and a mother, brother and sister, to each ; and 
to resist, to the utmost of my ability, any murderous natives 
who, encouraged by the general forbearance of the white man, 
would feel disposed to do them harm. 

We call upon the One, and Compassionate, and Just God, 
to witness our mutual pledges. 

On the nth of November, 1874, we sail away from our 
friends, who are gathered on the beach at sunset, to witness 
our departure. The evening breeze sweeps us across the 
Zangian Channel. The shadows of the night fall over the 
mainland and the silent sea, as we glide on to the destiny that 
may be awaiting us in the Dark Continent. 

The next morning we debarked, and, a few days later, took 
the native path which led to the west. I will not trouble you 
with a description of the journeys made each day. That 
native path, only a foot wide, leading westward, presently 
entered a jungle, then traversed a plain, on which the sun 
shone dazzling, and pitilessly hot. We came to a river: it 
swarmed with hippopotami and crocodiles. On the western 
bank the road began again; it pierced a scrubby forest, 
ascended the face of a rising land, dipped down again into a 
plain ; it then curved over a wooded hill, tracks of game be- 
coming numerous ; and so on it went, over plain, hill, valley, 
through forest and jungle, cultivated fields of manioc, maize, 
and millet, traversing several countries, such as Udoe, Uru- 
guru, Useguhha, Usagara. By the time we had gone through 
Ugogo, we were rich in experience of African troubles, native 
arrogance, and unbridled temper. 

But, as yet, we had suffered no signal misfortune. A few of 
our men had deserted, one or two bales had been lost. On 
leaving Ugogo, we turned north-westward, and entered an 



300 HENRY M. STANLEY 

enormous bush-field. No charts could aid me to lay out the 
route, no man with me had ever been in this region, guides 
proved faithless as soon as they were engaged. I always en- 
deavoured to secure three days' provisions, at least, before 
venturing anywhere unknown to the guides. But three days 
passed away, and the bush-field spread out on either side, 
silent and immense. We had followed the compass course 
north-west, staggering on blindly under our heavy loads, 
hoping, hourly, that we should see something in the shape of 
game, or signs of cultivation. The fourth day passed ; our 
provisions were exhausted, and we began to be anxious. We 
had already travelled eighty miles through the straggling 
jungle. The fifth day we took the road at sunrise and travelled 
briskly on, myself leading the way, compass in hand, my 
white assistants, the brothers Pocock and Barker, with a 
dozen select men, as rear-guard. You may rest assured that 
my eyes travelled around and in front, unceasingly, in search 
of game. At noon, we halted at a small pond, and drank its 
filthy nitrous water. 

About two, we started again through the wilderness of 
thorny bush and rank-smelling acacia; the fifth day ended 
with nothing but our hopes to feed upon. The sixth, seventh, 
and eighth days passed in like manner, hoping, ever hoping ! 
Five people perished from absolute starvation during the 
eighth day. On the ninth, we came to a small village; but 
there was not a grain to be bought for money, or obtained 
through fear, or love, of us. We obtained news, however, that 
there was a large village a long day's journey ofi^, north- 
westerly. I despatched forty of the stoutest men with cloth 
and beads to purchase provisions. Though pinched with 
hunger they reached the place at night, and the next day the 
gallant fellows returned with eight hundred pounds of grain. 
Meantime, those that remained had wandered about in search 
of game, and had found the putrid carcase of an elephant, and 
two lion whelps, which they brought to me. Finding that the 
pain of hunger was becoming intolerable, we emptied a sheet- 
iron trunk, filled it three-quarters with water, into which we 
put ten pounds of oatmeal, four pounds of lentil flour, four 
pounds of tapioca, half a pound of salt, out of which we made 
a gruel. Each man and woman within an hour was served 



THROUGH THE DARK CONTINENT 301 

with a cupful of gruel. This was a great drain on our medical 
stores, when we might say only a twentieth part of the journey 
had been performed ; but the expedition was saved. 

The effect of that terrible jungle experience was felt for 
many a day afterwards. Four more died within two days, 
over a score were on the sick list, consequently, the riding asses 
were loaded with bales, and all of us whites were obliged to 
walk. 

Twenty-eight miles under a hot sun prostrated one of the 
brothers Pocock. To carry him in a hammock, we had to 
throw some loads into the bush, to relieve the heavily-bur- 
dened caravan. In this condition we entered Ituru — a land 
of naked people, whose hills drain into a marsh, whence issue 
the southernmost waters of the Nile.^ 

A presentiment of evil depressed all of us, as the long column 
of wearied and sick people entered Ituru. My people hurried 
their women away out of sight, the boys drove the herds away 
from our foreground in order that, if the looming trouble rup- 
tured, the cattle might not be hurt. By dint of diplomatic 
suavity, we postponed the conflict for many days. We gave 
presents freely, the slightest service was royally rewarded. 
Though our hearts were heavy at the gloomy prescience of 
our minds, we smiled engagingly ; but I could see that it was 
of no use. However, it deferred the evil. Finally, Edward 
Pocock died ; we buried him in the midst of our fenced camp, 
and the poor fisher-boy lay at rest for ever. 

Four days later, we arrived at the village of Vinyata. We 
had been ten days in the land of Ituru, and, as yet, the black 
cloud had not lifted, nor had it burst. But, as we entered 
Vinyata, a sick man suffering from asthma lingered behind, 
unknown to the rear-guard. The fell savages pounced on him, 
hacked him to little pieces, and scattered them along the road. 
It was the evening of the 21st of January, 1875. The muster- 
roll as usual was read. We discovered his absence, sent a body 
of men back along the road ; they found his remains, and came 
back bearing bloody evidences of the murder. 

* Well, what can I do, my friends? ' 

* But, master, if we don't avenge his death, we shall have to 

' It was here, on this watershed, that Stanley discovered the southernmost source 
of the Nile. — D. S. 



302 HENRY M. STANLEY 

mourn for a few more, shortly. These savages need a lesson. 
For ten days we have borne it, expecting every minute just 
what has happened.' 

* It is I who suffer most. Don't you see the sick are so 
numerous that we can scarcely move? Now, you talk of my 
giving a lesson to these people. I did not come to Africa to 
give such lessons. No, my friends, we must bear it; not only 
this, but perhaps a few more, if we are not careful.' 

We fenced the camp around with bush, set a guard, and 
rested. Up to this day twenty men had died, eighty-nine had 
deserted ; there were two hundred and forty-seven left, out of 
whom thirty were on the sick-list. Ituru was populous, and 
the people warlike; two hundred and seventeen indifferent 
fighters against a nation could do nothing. We could only 
forbear. 

We halted the next day, and took advantage of it to pur- 
chase the favour of the natives. At night we thought we had 
succeeded. But the next day two brothers went out into the 
bush to collect fuel : one was speared to death, the other 
rushed into camp, a lance quivering in his arm, his body 
gashed with the flying weapons, his face streaming with blood 
from the blow of a whirling knobstick. We were horrified. 
He cried out, ' It is war, the savages are coming through the 
bush all round the camp ! ' 

'There, master!' said the chief men, as they rushed up to 
assist the wounded man, ' What said we ? We are in for it, sure 
enough, this time ! ' 

* Keep silence,' I said. * Even for this, I will not fight. You 
know not what you say. Two lives are lost ; but that is small 
loss compared with the loss of a hundred, or even fifty. You 
cannot fight a tribe like this without paying a heavy forfeit of 
life. I cannot afford to lose you. We have a thousand tribes 
to go through yet, and you talk of war now. Be patient, men, 
this will blow over.' 

' Never ! ' cried the men. 

While I was arguing for peace, the camp was being gradually 
surrounded. As the savages came into view, I sent men to 
talk with them. It staggered the natives. They seemed to 
ask one another, ' Have they not yet received cause enough 
to fight?' But as it took two sides to fight, and one was 



THROUGH THE DARK CONTINENT 303 

unwilling, it was influencing them; and the matter might 
have ended, had not a fresh force, remarkable for its bellicose 
activity, appeared upon the scene. 

* Master, you had better prepare ; there is no peace with 
these people.' 

I gave the order to distribute twenty rounds of cartridges 
per man, and enjoined on all to retire quietly to their several 
places in the camp. 

My interpreters still held on talking soothingly, while I 
watched, meanwhile, to note the slightest event. 

Presently, the murderous band from the bush south of our 
camp appeared, and again the clamour for war rose loudly on 
our ears. 

I disposed two companies of fifty each on either side of the 
gate, to resist the rush. There was a hostile movement, the 
interpreters came flying back, the savages shot a cloud of 
arrows. On all sides rose bodies of savages. A determined 
rush was made for the gate of the camp. A minute later, 
firing began, and the companies moved forward briskly, fir- 
ing as they went. Then every axe-man was marched out, 
to cut the bush, and fortify the camp. The savages were 
driven back for an hour, and a recall was sounded. No enemy 
being in sight, we occupied ourselves in making the camp 
impregnable, constructed four towers, twenty feet high, to 
command all sides, and, filling them with marksmen, waited 
events. 

The day, and the night, passed quietly. Our camp was 
unassailable. I had only lost two men so far. At nine o'clock, 
the enemy reappeared in good order, re-enforced in numbers, 
for the adjoining districts had responded to the war-cries we 
had heard pealing the day before. They advanced confidently, 
probably two thousand strong. The marksmen in the towers 
opened deliberately on them, and two companies were marched 
out of camp, and deployed. A deadly fire was kept up for a 
few minutes, before which the enemy fell back. A rush was 
made upon them, the natives fled. 

I called back my people, and then formed out of these com- 
panies five detachments of twenties, each under a chosen man. 
Instructions were given to drive the natives back rapidly, as 
far as possible, a company of fifty to follow, and secure cattle, 



304 HENRY M. STANLEY 

grain, fowls, and food. Those remaining behind cleared the 
bush further, so that we might have an open view two hundred 
yards all around. Until late in the afternoon the fighting was 
kept up, messengers keeping me in contact with my people. 
At 4 p. M., the enemy having collected on the summit of a hill 
several miles away, my men retired upon our camp. Our 
losses amounted to twenty-two killed, and three wounded. 
My effective force now numbered two hundred and eight. 
The camp was full of cattle, goats, fowls, milk, and grain. I 
could stand a siege for months, if necessary. 

The third morning came. We waited within the camp ; but, 
at 9 A. M., the natives advanced as before, more numerous 
than ever. Despite the losses they had experienced, they must 
have been heartened by what we had suffered. This explains 
their pertinacity. If we lost twenty each day, ten days would 
end us all. It was thus they argued. I, on the other hand, to 
prevent this constant drain, was resolved to finish the war 
on this day. Accordingly, when they appeared, we advanced 
upon them with one hundred and fifty rifles; and, leaving 
only fifty in the camp, delivered several volleys, and pursued 
them from village to village, setting fire to each as soon as 
captured. In close order, we made the circuit of the entire 
district of Vinyata, until we arrived at the stronghold of the 
tribe, on the summit of the hill. We halted a short time to 
breathe, and then assailed it by a rush. The enemy fled pre- 
cipitately, and we returned to camp, having lost but two 
killed throughout the arduous day. 

There only remained for me to re-arrange the caravan. 
January, 1875, had been a disastrous month to us ! Altogether, 
nine had perished from hunger in the wilderness of Uveriveri ; 
in Ituru, twenty-six had been speared in battle ; five had died 
by disease, the consequence of the misery of the period ; on my 
hands I had four wounded, and twenty-five feeble wretches 
scarcely able to walk. I had thus lOst a fourth of my effect- 
ive force, with nearly seven thousand miles of a journey still 
.before me ! 

Suppressing my grief as much as possible, I set about re- 
ducing the baggage, and burnt every possible superfluous 
article. I clung to my boat and every stick of it, though sorely 
tempted. The boat required thirty of the strongest men for 



THROUGH THE DARK CONTINENT 305 

its carriage. Personal baggage, luxuries, books, cloth, beads, 
wire, extra tents, were freely sacrificed. 

At day-break, on the 26th of January, we departed, every 
riding ass, and all chiefs and supernumeraries, being employed 
as porters. We entered a forest, and emerged from it three 
days later, in the friendly and hospitable land of Usukuma. 
Our booty in bullocks and goats sufficed to enlist over a hun- 
dred fresh carriers. After a halt, to recover from our wounds 
and fatigues, I turned northward through a gracious land, 
whence issued the smell of cattle and sweet grass, a land 
abounding with milk and plenty, where we enjoyed perfect 
immunity from trouble of any kind. Each day saw us wind- 
ing up and down its grassy vales and gentle hills, escorted by 
hundreds of amiable natives. Everywhere we were received 
with a smiling welcome by the villagers, who saw us depart- 
ing with regret. * Come yet again,' said they; * come, always 
assured of welcome.* 

With scarcely one drawback to our pleasure, we arrived on 
the shores of the Victoria Nyanza, on the one hundred and 
fourth day from the sea, after a journey of seven hundred and 
twenty miles. 

Sixteen years and seven months previous to our arrival at 
the lake, Captain Speke had viewed it from a point just twelve 
miles west of my camp. Reflecting on the vast expanse of 
water before him, Speke said, 'I no longer felt any doubt that 
the lake at my feet gave birth to that interesting river, the 
source of which has been the subject of so much speculation, 
and the object of so many explorers.* This bold hypothesis was 
warmly disputed by many, principally by his fellow-explorer. 
Captain Burton. This led to Speke making a second expedi- 
tion, with Captain Grant for a companion, during which he 
saw a great deal of its western, and half of its northern shores, 
from prominent points as he travelled overland. Captain 
Burton and his brother theorists declined to be satisfied; 
consequently, it was interesting to know, by actual survey, 
what was the character of this Victoria Nyanza. Was it really 
one lake, or a cluster of shallow lakes or marshes? 

I had thought there could be no better way of settling, once 
and for ever, the vexed question, than by the circumnaviga- 
tion of the lake, or lakes. For that purpose I had brought with 



3o6 HENRY M. STANLEY 

me from England, in sections, a cedar boat, forty feet long, 
and six feet beam. 

Of course, all my people knew the object of the boat, but 
when I asked for volunteers to man it for the voyage, they all 
assumed a look of wonder, as though the matter had dawned 
on their minds for the first time ! 

' Where are the brave fellows who are to be my compan- 
ions? ' I asked. 

There was a dead silence ; the men gazed at one another and 
stupidly scratched their hips. 

' You know, I cannot go alone ! * 

Their eyes travelled over one another's faces; they had 
suddenly become blank-faced mutes. 

' You see the beautiful boat, made in England, safe as a ship, 
swift as a sea-bird. We shall stow plenty of chop ; we will lie 
lazily down on the thwarts ; the winds will bear us gaily along. 
Let my braves step out ; those men who will dare accompany 
their master round this sea.' 

Up, and down, their eyes traversed each other's forms, and, 
finally, became fixed on their feet. 

* Come, come ; this will not do. Will you join me? ' 

' Ah, master, I cannot row. I am a land-lubber. My back 
is as strong as a camel's. There is no one like me for the road ; 
but the sea ! — Uh ! uh ! the water is only fit for fishes, and I 
am a son of the firm earth ! ' 

* Will you join me, my boy? ' 

* Dear master, you know I am your slave, and you are my 
prince ; but, master, look at the great waves ! — Boo ! boo ! 
all the time ! — Please, master, excuse me this time. I will 
never do it again.' 

* Will you go with me, to live a pleasant month on the sea? * 
' Ha ! ha ! good master, you are joking ! Who ? I ? I, who am 

the son of Abdallah, who was the son of Nasib ! Surely, my 
master, my hamal's back was made to carry loads! I am a 
donkey for that, but you cannot make a sailor of a donkey ! ' 

' Will you come with me ? I have had my eye on you for a 
long time ? ' 

* Where to, master ? ' he asked innocently. 

* Why, round this sea, of course, in my boat ! ' 

* Ah, sir, put your hand on my breast. You feel the thump- 



THROUGH THE DARK CONTINENT 307 

ing of the heart. A mere look at the sea always sends it 
bounding that way. Pray don't kill me, master, that sea 
would be my grave ! * 

'So! you are donkeys, eh? camels? land-lubbers? hamals 
only, eh ? Well, we will tr^^ another plan ! Here, you sir, I 
like you, a fine, handsome, light weight ! Step into that boat ; 
and you, you look like a born sailor, follow him ; and you — 
heavens ! what a back and muscles ! You shall try them on the 
oars ! And you, a very lion in the fight at Ituru ! I love lions, 
and you shall roar with me to the wild waves of the Nyanza ! 
And you, the springing antelope, ha! ha! you shall spring 
with me over the foaming surge ! ' I selected eleven. ' Oh, you 
young fellows, I will make sailors of you, never fear! Get 
ready, we must be off within an hour.' 

We set sail on the 8th of March. The sky was gloomy. The 
lake reflected its gloom, and was of the colour of ashy-grey. 
The shores were stern and rugged. My crew sighed dolorously, 
and rowed like men bound to certain death, often casting 
wistful looks at me, as though I shared their doubts, and 
would order a return, and confess that the preparations were 
only an elaborate joke. Five miles beyond our port we halted 
for the night at a fishing-village. A native — shock-headed, 
ugly, loutish, and ungainly in movement — agreed, for a 
consideration, to accompany us as pilot and interpreter of 
lake dialects. The next day, steering eastward, we sailed at 
early dawn. At 11 A. M., a gale blew, and the lake became 
wild beyond description. We scudded before the tempest, 
while it sang in our ears and deafened us with its tumult. 
The waves hissed as we tore along; leaping seas churned 
white, racing with us and clashing their tops with loud, en- 
gulfing sounds. The crew collapsed, and crouched with staring 
eyes into the bottom of the boat, and expected each upward 
heave, and sudden fall into the troughs, to be the end of the 
wild venture; but the boat, though almost drowned by the 
spray and foam, dashed gaily along, until, about three o'clock, 
we swept round to the lee of an island, and floated into a 
baylet, still as a pond. We coasted around the indented shores 
of Speke Gulf, and touched at Ukerewe, where our guide 
had many friends, who told us, for the exceeding comfort of 
my crew, that it would take years to sail around their sea ; and 



3o8 HENRY M. STANLEY 

who, at that time, would be left alive to tell the tale? On its 
shores dwelt a people with long tails ; there was a tribe which 
trained big dogs for purposes of war ; there were people, also, 
who preferred to feed on human beings, rather than on cattle 
or goats. My young sailors were exceedingly credulous. Our 
mop-headed guide and pilot grunted his terror, and sought 
every opportunity to escape the doom which we were hurrying 
to meet. 

From Ukerewe we sailed by the picturesque shores of Wye ; 
thence along the coast of populous Ururi, whence the fisher- 
men, hailed by us as we glided by, bawled out to us that 
we should be eight years on the voyage. We were frequently 
chased by hippopotami; crocodiles suddenly rose alongside, 
and floated for a moment side by side, as though to take the 
measure of our boat's length. As we sailed by the coast of 
Irirui, large herds of cattle were seen browsing on green herb- 
age ; the natives of Utiri fell into convulsions of laughter as 
they looked on the novel method of rowing adopted by us. 
When we hoisted the sail, they ceased mocking us and ran 
away in terror. Then we laughed at them ! 

Beyond Utiri loomed the dark mountainous mass of 
Ugeyeya ; to the west of it, grim and lofty, frowned the island 
of Uguigo. Grey rocky islets studded the coast. By swelling 
and uneven lines of hills, gentle slopes all agreen with young 
grass, on which many herds and flocks industriously fed, past 
many a dark headland, and cliffy walls of rock, and lovely 
bays, edged by verdure and forest, and cosy lake-ports, the 
boat sailed day after day, some curious adventure marking 
each day's voyage, until the boat's head was turned westward. 

While close to the shore of Ugamba, a war-canoe manned by 
forty paddlers drew near to us. When within fifty yards, most 
of them dropped their paddles and flourished tufted lances 
and shields. We sat still; they wheeled round us, defyingly 
shaking their spears; they edged nearer, and ranged their 
canoe alongside. Lamb-like, we gazed on them ; they bullied 
us, and laid their hands on everything within reach. We 
smiled placidly, for resentment we had none. We even per- 
mitted them to handle our persons freely. Tired with that, 
they seized their slings and tried to terrify us with the whiz 
of the stones, which flew by our heads dangerously near. 



THROUGH THE DARK CONTINENT 309 

They then chanted a war-song, and one, cheered by the 
sound, became bolder, and whirled a rock at my head. I fired 
a revolver into the water, and the warriors at once sprang 
into the lake and dived, as though in search of the bullet. 
Not finding it, I suppose, they swam away, and left the fine 
canoe in our hands ! 

We were delighted, of course, at the fun; we begged them 
to come back. After much coaxing, they returned and got 
into their canoe. We spoke — oh, so blandly ! — to them. 
They were respectful, but laughed as they thought of the 
boom, boom, boom, of the pistol. They gave me a bunch of 
bananas, and we mutually admired one another. At last we 
parted. 

Another gale visited us at Usuguru, blowing as though 
from above. Its force seemed to compress the water ; repelled 
by the weightier element, it brushed its face into millions of 
tiny ripples. Suddenly, the temperature fell 20° ; hailstones 
as large as filberts pelted us ; and, for fully ten minutes, we 
cowered under the icy shower. Then such tropical torrents 
of rain poured, that every utensil was employed to bale the 
boat to prevent foundering. The deluge lasted for hours, but 
near night we uncovered, baled the boat dry, and crept for 
refuge, through the twilight, into a wild arbour on an island, 
there to sleep. 

A few days later, we coasted by the island of Wavuma. 
Five piratical craft came up, and we behaving, as we always 
did, in that lackadaisical, so fatally-encouraging manner, 
they became rude, insolent, and, finally, belligerent. Of course, 
it resulted in a violent rupture; there was an explosion, one 
of their canoes sank, and then we had peace, and sailed away. 
We were on the Equator now. We cut across the Napoleon 
Channel, through which the superfluous waters of the lake 
flow. At the northern end they abruptly fall about eight feet, 
and then rush northward as the Victoria Nile. 

On the western side of the channel is Uganda, dominated 
by a prince, entitled Kabaka, or Emperor. He is supreme 
over about three millions of people, not quite so degraded or 
barbarous as those we had hitherto viewed. He soon heard of 
the presence of my boat on the lake, and despatched a flotilla 
to meet me. Strangely enough, the Emperor's mother had 



310 HENRY M. STANLEY 

dreamed the night before that she had seen a boat sailing, 
sailing, like a fish-eagle, over the Nyanza. In the stern of the 
boat was a white man gazing wistfully towards Uganda. 

The dream of the Imperial lady is no sooner told, than a 
breathless messenger appears at the palace gate and informs 
the astonished Court that he had seen a boat, with white wings 
like those of the fish-eagle, skimming along the shores, and at 
the after-end of the boat there was a white man, scrutinizing 
the land ! 

Such a man as this, who sends visions to warn an Empress 
of his approach, must needs be great! Let worthy prepara- 
tions be made at once, and send a flotilla to greet him ! 

Hence, the commodore of the flotilla, on meeting with me, 
uses words which astonish me by their courtly sound; and, 
following in the wake of the canoes, we sail towards Usavara, 
where, I am told, the Emperor of Uganda awaits me. 

We see thousands of people arranging themselves in order, 
as we come in view of the immense camp. The crews in the 
canoes fire volleys of musketry, which are answered by volleys 
from shore. Kettle and bass-drums thunder out a welcome, 
flags and banners are waved, and the people vent a great 
shout. 

The boat's keel grided on the beach ; I leapt out, to meet 
several deeply-bowing officials; they escorted me to a young 
man standing under an enormous crimson flag, and clad like 
an Arab gentleman, the Katekiro, or Prime Minister, Ah. I 
bowed profoundly ; he imitated the bow, but added to it a 
courteous wave of the hand. Then the courtiers came forward 
and greeted me in the Zanzibar language. 'A welcome, a 
thousand welcomes to the Kabaka's guest!' was cried on 
all sides. 

I was escorted to my quarters. Hosts of questions were 
fired off at me, about my health, journey, Zanzibar, Europe 
and its nations, the oceans, and the lieavens, the sun, moon, 
and stars, angels, demons, doctors and priests, and craftsmen 
in general. I answered to the best of my power, and, in one 
hour and ten minutes, it was declared unanimously that I had 
passed ! 

In the afternoon, after receiving a present of fourteen oxen, 
sixteen goats and sheep, a hundred bunches of bananas, three 



THROUGH THE DARK CONTINENT 311 

dozen fowls, four jars of milk, four baskets of sweet potatoes, 
a basket of rice, twenty fresh eggs, and ten pots full of banana 
wine, — which you must admit was an imperial gift for a 
boat's crew and one white man, — and after I had bathed and 
brushed, I was introduced to the foremost man of Equatorial 
Africa. Preceded by pages in white cotton robes, I was 
ushered into the Imperial Presence through a multitude of 
chiefs, ranked in kneeling or seated lines, drummers, guards, 
executioners, and pages. 

The tall, clean-faced, and large-lustrous-eyed Mtesa rose, 
advanced, and shook hands. I was invited to be seated ; and 
then there followed a mutual inspection. We talked about 
many things, principally about Europe and Heaven. The 
inhabitants of the latter place he was very anxious about, and 
was specially interested in the nature of angels. Ideas of 
those celestial spirits, picked up from the Bible, Paradise 
Lost, Michael Angelo, and Gustave Dore, enabled me to 
describe them in bright and warm colours. Led away by my 
enthusiasm, I may have exaggerated somewhat! However, 
I was rewarded with earnest attention, and, I do believe, 
implicit belief ! 

Every day while I stayed, the 'barzah* was kept up with 
ceremony. One afternoon Mtesa said, 'Stamlee, I want you 
to show my women how white men can shoot.' (There were 
about nine hundred of them.) 

We adjourned the barzah, and proceeded to the lake shore. 
The ladies formed a crescent line, Mtesa in the midst, and 
amused themselves by criticising my personal appearance — 
not unfavourably, I hope! It was, 'Stamlee is this,' and 
'Stamlee is that,' from nine hundred pairs of lips. There was 
at first a buzz, then it grew into a rippling murmur ; hundreds 
of lips covered and uncovered, alternately, dazzling white 
teeth; the Equatorial stars were not half so brilliant as the 
beautiful and lustrous jet-black eyes that reflected the merri- 
ness of the hearts. An admiral with a fleet of canoes searched 
for a crocodile, at which I might take aim. They discovered a 
small specimen, sleeping on a rock at the distance of a hundred 
yards. 

To represent all the sons of Japhet was a great responsi- 
bility ; but I am happy to say that my good luck did not desert 



312 HENRY M. STANLEY 

me. The head of the young reptile was nearly severed from 
the body by a three-ounce ball, and this feat was accepted as a 
conclusive and undeniable proof that all white men were dead 
shots ! 

In person, Mtesa is slender and tall, probably six feet one 
inch in height. He has very intelligent and agreeable features, 
which remind me of some of the faces of the great stone images 
at Thebes, and of the statues in the Museum at Cairo. He has 
the same fulness of lips, but their grossness is relieved by the 
general expression of amiability, blended with dignity, that 
pervades his face, and the large, lustrous, lambent eyes that 
lend it a strange beauty, and are typical of the race from which 
I believe him to have sprung. His face is of a wonderfully 
smooth surface. 

When not engaged in council, he throws off, unreservedly, 
the bearing that distinguishes him when on the throne, and 
gives rein to his humour, indulging in hearty peals of laughter. 
He seems to be interested in the discussion of the manners and 
customs of European courts, and to be enamoured of hearing 
of the wonders of civilisation. He is ambitious to imitate, as 
much as lies in his power, the ways of the European. When 
any piece of information is given him, he takes upon him- 
self the task of translating it to his wives and chiefs, though 
many of the latter understand the language of the East Coast 
as well as he does himself. 

Though at this period I only stayed with him about twelve 
days, as I was anxious about my camp at Kagehyi, yet the 
interest I conceived for the Emperor and his people at this 
early stage was very great. He himself was probably the 
main cause of this. The facility with which he comprehended 
what was alluded to in conversation, the eagerness of his 
manner, the enthusiasm he displayed when the wonders of 
civilisation were broached to him, tempted me to introduce 
the subject of Christianity, and I delayed my departure from 
Uganda much longer than prudence counselled, to impress the 
first rudimentary lessons on his mind. 

I did not attempt to confuse him with any particular doc- 
trine, nor did I broach abtruse theological subjects, which I 
knew would only perplex him. The simple story of the Crea- 
tion as related by Moses, the revelation of God's power to the 



THROUGH THE DARK CONTINENT 313 

Israelites, their delivery from the Egyptians, the wonderful 
miracles He wrought in behalf of the children of Abraham, the 
appearance of prophets at various times foretelling the coming 
of Christ; the humble birth of the Messiah, His wonderful 
life, woeful death, and the triumphant resurrection, — were 
themes so captivating to the intelligent pagan, that little 
public business was transacted, and the seat of justice was 
converted into an alcove where only the religious and moral 
law was discussed. 

But I must leave my friend Mtesa, and his wonderful court, 
and the imperial capital, Rubaga, for other scenes. 

Ten days after we left the genial court, I came upon the 
scene of a tragedy, which was commented upon in Parliament. 
We were coasting the eastern side of a large island, looking 
for a port where we could put in to purchase provisions. We 
had already been thirty-six hours without food, and though 
the people on the neighbouring main were churlish, I hoped 
the islanders would be more amenable to reason and kindly 
largesse of cloth. Herds of cattle grazed on the sumimit and 
slopes of the island hills; plantations of bananas, here and 
there, indicated abundance. As we rowed along the shore, a 
few figures emerged from the shades of the frondent groves. 
They saw us rowing, and raised the war-cry in long-drawn, 
melodious notes. It drew numbers out of the villages; they 
were seen gathering from summit, hollow, and slope. Besides 
the fierce shouting, their manner was not reassuring. But 
hungry as we were, and not knowing whither to turn to obtain 
supplies, this manifest hostility we thought would moderate 
after a closer acquaintance. 

We pulled gently round a point to a baylet. The natives 
followed our movements, poising their spears, stringing their 
bows, picking out the best rocks for their slings. Observing 
them persistent in hostile preparations, we ceased rowing about 
fifty yards from the shore. The interpreter with the mop head 
was requested to speak to the natives. You can imagine how 
he pleaded, hunger inspiring his eloquence ! The poised spears 
were lowered, the ready rocks were dropped, and they invited 
us by signs with open palms to advance without fear. We 
were thirteen souls, including myself ; they between three and 
four hundred. Prudence advised retreat, hunger impelled 



314 HENRY M. STANLEY 

us on; the islanders also invited us. Wisdom is a thing of 
exceedingly slow growth ; had we been wise, we should have 
listened to the counsels of prudence. 

' It is almost always the case, master,' said Safeni, the cox- 
swain. * These savages cry out and threaten, and talk big ; but, 
you will see, these people will become fast friends with us. 
Besides, if we leave here without food, where shall we get 
any ? ' At the same time, without waiting for orders, four men 
nearest the bow dipped their oars into the water, and gently 
moved the boat nearer. 

Seeing the boat advance, the natives urged us to be without 
fear. They smiled, entered the water up to their hips, held 
out inviting hands. They called us 'brothers,' 'friends,' 'good 
fellows.' This conquered our reluctance; the crew shot the 
boat towards the natives; their hands closed on her firmly; 
they ran with her to the shore ; as many as could lay hold 
assisted, and dragged her high and dry about twenty yards 
from the lake. 

Then ensued a scene of rampant wildness and hideous 
ferocity of action beyond description. The boat was sur- 
rounded by a forest of spears, over fifty bows were bent nearly 
double, with levelled arrows, over two hundred swart demons 
contended as to who should deliver the first blow. When this 
outbreak first took place, I had sprung up to kill and be killed, 
a revolver in each hand ; but, as I rose to my feet, the utter 
hopelessness of our situation was revealed to me — a couple 
of mitrailleuses only could have quenched their ferocious fury. 
We resigned ourselves to the tempest of shrieking rage with 
apparent indifference. This demeanour was not without its 
effect; the delirious fury subsided. Our interpreter spoke, 
our coxswain pleaded with excellent pantomime, and, with 
Kiganda words, explained; but the arrival of fifty new- 
comers kindled anew the tumult ; it increased to the perilous 
verge of murder. The coxswain was pushed headlong into the 
boat; Kirango's head received a sounding thwack from a 
lance-staff; a club came down heartily on the back of my 
mop-headed guide. I grinned fiendishly, I fear, because they 
deserved it for urging me to such a hell. 

I had presently to grin another way, for a gang paid their 
attentions to me. They mistook my hair for a wig, and at- 



THROUGH THE DARK CONTINENT 315 

tempted to pull it off. They gave it a wrench until the scalp 
tingled. Unresisting, I submitted to their abuse. But, though 
I was silent, I thought a great deal, and blessed them in my 
heart. 

After a little while they seized our oars — our legs, as they 
called them. The boat would lie helpless in their power, they 
thought. The natives took position on a small eminence about 
two hundred yards away, to hold a palaver. It was a slow 
affair. They lunched and drank wine. At 3 p. m., drums were 
beaten for muster. A long line of natives appeared in war 
costume. All had smeared their faces with black and white 
pigments. The most dull-witted amongst us knew what it 
portended ! 

A tall young fellow came bounding down the hill and 
pounced upon our Kiganda drum. It was only a curio we had 
picked up ; we let them have it. Before going away he said, 
* If you are men, prepare to fight.' 

'Good,' I said; 'the sentence is given, suspense is over. 
Boys,' I said, 'if I try to save you, will you give me absolute 
submission, unwavering obedience ? — no arguing or reason- 
ing, but prompt, unhesitating compliance ? ' 

* Yes, we will ; we swear ! ' 

* Do you think you can push this boat into the water?* 
'Yes.' 

* Just as she is, with all her goods in her, before those men 
can reach us ? ' 

'Yes, certainly.' 

'Stand by, then. Range yourselves on both sides of the 
boat, carelessly. Each of you find out exactly where you shall 
lay hold. I will load my guns. Safeni, take these cloths on 
your arm, walk up towards the men on the hill ; open out the 
cloths one by one, you know, as though you were admiring 
the pattern. But keep your ears open. When I call out to 
you, throw the cloths away and fly to us, or your death will 
lie on your own head ! Do you understand ? ' 

'Perfectly, master.' 

'Then go.' 

Meantime, I loaded my guns, my elephant-rifle, double- 
barrelled shot-gun, Winchester repeater, and two or three 
Sniders belonging to the men. 



3i6 HENRY M. STANLEY 

* Lay hold firmly, boys ; break the boat rather than stop. It 
is life or death.' 

Safeni was about fifty yards off; the natives' eyes were 
fastened on him, wondering why he came. 
'Now, boys, ready?' 

* Ready ! please God, master ! ' 

' Push ! push, Saramba, Kirango ! Push, you villain, 
Baraka.' 

'Aye, aye, sir! push it is.' 

The boat moved, the crew drove her sternward, her keel 
ploughing through the gravel, and crunching through the 
stony beach. We were nearing the lake. 

* Hurrah, boys ! Push, you scoundrels ! Ha ! the natives see 
you ! They are coming ! Safeni ! Safeni ! Safeni ! Push, boys, 
the natives are on you ! ' 

Safeni heard, and came racing towards us. The boat glided 
into the water, and carried the crew with her far out with the 
impetus with which she was launched. 'Swim away with her, 
boys, don't stop ! ' 

Alas for Safeni ! 

A tall native who bounds over the ground like a springbok, 
poises his spear for a cast. The balanced spear was about 
to fly — I could not lose my man — I fired. The bullet per- 
forated him, and flew through a second man, 

' Jump, Safeni, head first into the lake ! ' The bowmen came 
to the lake, and drew their bows ; the Winchester repeater 
dropped them steadily. The arrows pierced the boat and mast, 
and quivered in the stern behind me. One only drew blood 
from me. When we had got one hundred yards from the shore, 
the arrows were harmless. I lifted a man into the boat, he as- 
sisted the rest. We stopped for Safeni, and drew him safely in. 

The natives manned four canoes. My crew were told to 
tear the bottom-boards of the boat up for paddles. The 
canoes advancing fiercely on us, we desisted from paddling. 
I loaded my elephant-rifle with explosive bullets, and when 
the foremost canoe was about eighty yards off, took deliber- 
ate aim at a spot in it between wind and water. The shell 
struck, and tore a large fragment from the brittle wood. The 
canoe sank. Another canoe soon after met the same fate ; the 
others returned. We were saved ! 



THROUGH THE DARK CONTINENT 317 

After being seventy-six hours without food, we reached 
Refuge Island. We shot some ducks, and discovered some 
wild fruit. Delicious evening, — how we enjoyed it ! The 
next day we made new oars; and, finally, after fifty-seven 
days' absence from our camp, relieved our anxious people. 

'But where is Barker?' I asked Frank Pocock. 

' He died twelve days ago, sir, and lies there,' pointing to a 
new mound of earth near the landing-place. 

I must pass briefly over many months, replete with ad- 
ventures, sorrow, suffering, perils by flood and field. Within 
a few weeks, the King of Ukerewe having furnished me with 
canoes, I transported the expedition across the lake from its 
south-eastern to its north-western extremity, with a view to 
explore Lake Albert. In passing by the pirate island of Bum- 
bireh, the natives again challenged us to pass by them without 
their permission ; and as that permission would not be given, I 
attacked the island, capturing the King and two of the princi- 
pal chiefs, and passed on to Uganda. 

Before I could obtain any assistance from Mtesa, I had to 
visit him once again. Being at war with the Wavuma, he 
detained me several months. 

The good work I had commenced was resumed. I trans- 
lated for him sufficient out of the Bible to form an abridged 
sacred history, wherein the Gospel of St. Luke was given 
entire. 

When my work of translation was complete, Mtesa mustered 
all his principal chiefs and officers, and after a long discourse, 
in which he explained his state of mind prior to my arrival, 
he said : — 

' Now I want you, my chiefs and soldiers, to tell me what 
we shall do. Shall we believe in Jesus, or in Mohammed ? ' 

One chief said, * Let us take that which is the best.' The 
Prime Minister, with a doubtful manner, replied, 'We know 
not which is the best. The Arabs say their book is the best, 
while the white man claims that his book is the best. How 
can we know which speaks the truth?' The courtly steward 
of the palace said, 'When Mtesa became a son of Islam, he 
taught me, and I became one. If my master says he taught 
me wrong, now, having more knowledge, he can teach me 
right.' 



3i8 HENRY M. STANLEY 

Mtesa then proceeded to unfold his reasons for his belief 
that the white man's book must be the true book, basing them 
principally upon the difference of conduct he had observed 
between the Arabs and the whites. The comparisons he so 
eloquently drew for them were in all points so favourable to 
the whites, that the chiefs unanimously gave their promise 
to accept the Christians' Bible, and to conform, as they were 
taught, to the Christian religion. 

To establish them in the new faith which they had embraced, 
it only rested with me to release Darlington, my young assist- 
ant-translator, from my service, that he might keep the words 
of the Holy Book green in their hearts, until the arrival of a 
Christian mission from England. Seldom was an appeal of 
this nature so promptly acceded to, as Mtesa's appeal that 
pastors and teachers should be sent to his country ; for £14,000 
was subscribed in a short time for the equipment of a Mis- 
sionary expedition, under the auspices of the Church Mission- 
ary Society. Three months before we reached the Atlantic 
Ocean, the missionaries for Uganda arrived at Zanzibar, the 
island we had left nineteen months previously.* 

On the conclusion of peace, Mtesa gave me two thousand 
three hundred men for an escort. With these we travelled 
west from the north-west corner of Lake Victoria and dis- 
covered the giant mountain Gordon Bennett, in the country 
of Gambaragara, and halted near Lake Muta-Nzige. But as 
the Wanyoro gathered in such numbers as to make it impos- 
sible to resist them, we retreated back to Lake Victoria. We 
then bade adieu to the Waganda, and travelled south until 
we came to Lake Tanganyika. We launched our boat on that 
lake, and, circumnavigating it, discovered that there was only 
a periodical outlet to it. It is, at this present time, steadily 
flowing out by the Lukuga River, westward to the Lualaba, 
until, at some other period of drought, the Tanganyika shall 
again be reduced, and the Lukuga bed be filled with vegeta- 
tion. 

Thus, by the circumnavigation of the two lakes, two of the 

* This Uganda Mission encountered tragic as well as heroic experiences, including 
an aggressive rivalry by the Roman Catholics, fierce persecution by the Mohammedans, 
and many martyrdoms. Ultimately, it prospered and grew, and the Guardian, Novem- 
ber 25, 1908, speaks of it as 'the most successful of modern missions.' — D. S. 



THROUGH THE DARK CONTINENT 319 

geographical problems I had undertaken to solve were settled. 
The Victoria Nyanza I found to be one lake, covering a super- 
ficial area of 21,500 square miles. The Tanganyika had no 
connection with the Albert Nyanza ; and, at present, it had 
no outlet. Should it continue to rise, as there was sufficient 
evidence to prove that for at least thirty years it had been 
steadily doing, its surplus waters would be discharged by 
the Lukuga River into the Lualaba. 

There now remained the grandest task of all, in attempt- 
ing to settle which Livingstone had sacrificed himself. Is the 
Lualaba, which he had traced along a course of nearly thirteen 
hundred miles, the Nile, the Niger, or the Congo ? He himself 
believed it to be the Nile, though a suspicion would sometimes 
intrude itself that it was the Congo. But he resisted the idea. 
'Anything for the Nile,' he said, 'but I will not be made black 
man's meat for the Congo ! ' 

I crossed Lake Tanganyika with my expedition, lifted once 
more my gallant boat on our shoulders, and after a march of 
nearly two hundred and twenty miles arrived at the superb 
river on the banks of which Livingstone had died. 

Where I first sighted it, the Lualaba was fourteen hundred 
yards wide — a noble breadth, pale grey in colour, winding 
slowly from south and by east. In the centre rose two or 
three small islets, green with the foliage of trees and the ver- 
dure of sedge. It was my duty to follow it to the ocean, 
whatever might hap during the venture. 

We pressed on along the river to the Arab colony of Mwana- 
Mamba, the chief of which was Tippu-Tib, a rich Arab, who 
possessed hundreds of armed slaves. He had given consider- 
able assistance to Cameron. A heavy fee, I thought, would 
bribe him to escort me some distance, until the seductions of 
Nyangwe would be left far behind. 

*I suppose, Tippu-Tib, you would have no objections to 
help me, for a good sum ? ' 

' I don't know about that,' he said, with a smile ; ' I have not 
many men with me now. Many are at Imbarri, others are 
trading in Manyuema.' 

* How many men have you ? ' 

* Perhaps three hundred, — say two hundred and fifty.' 
'They are enough.' 



320 HENRY M. STANLEY 

' Yes, added to your people, but not enough to return alone 
after you would leave me, through such a country as lies be- 
yond Nyangwe.' 

' But, my friend, think how it would be with me, with half 
a continent before me/ 

'Ah, well, if you white people are fools enough to throw 
away your lives, that is no reason why Arabs should! We 
travel little by little, to get ivory and slaves, and are years 
about it. It is now nine years since I left Zanzibar.* 

After a while, he called a man named Abed, son of Friday, 
who had penetrated further than any man, westward and 
northward. 

* Speak, Abed ; tell us what you know of this river.' 

' Yes, I know all about the river. Praise be to God ! * 

' In which direction does it flow, my friend ? ' 

' It flows north.' 

'And then?' 

' It flows north.' 

'And then?' 

'Still north. I tell you, sir, it flows north, and north, and 
north, and there is no end to it. I think it reaches the Salt 
Sea ; at least, my friends say that it must.' 

' Well, point out in which direction this Salt Sea is.' 

' God only knows.' 

* What kind of a country is it to the north, along the river? ' 
' Monstrous bad ! There are fearfully large boa-constrictors, 

in the forest of Uregga, suspended by their tails, waiting to 
gobble up travellers and stray animals. The ants in that 
forest are not to be despised. You cannot travel without 
being covered by them, and they sting like wasps. There are 
leopards in countless numbers. Every native wears a leopard- 
skin cap. Gorillas haunt the woods in legions, and woe befall 
the man or woman they meet ; they run and fasten their fangs 
in the hands, and bite the fingers one by one, and spit them out 
one after another. The people are man-eaters. It is nothing 
but constant fighting. A party of three hundred guns started 
for Uregga; only sixty returned. If we go by river, there are 
falls after falls. Ah, sir, the country is bad, and we have 
given up trying to trade in that direction.' 

But, despite the terrible news of Abed, the son of Friday, 



THROUGH THE DARK CONTINENT 321 

Tippu-Tib was not averse to earning a decent fee. Pending 
his definite acceptance of a proffered sum of a thousand 
pounds, I consulted my remaining companion, Frank Pocock. 

While my little ebon page Mabruki poured out the evening's 
coffee, I described the difficulty we were in. I said, 'These 
Arabs have told such frightful tales about the lands north of 
here, that unless Tippu-Tib accepts my offer, the expedition 
will be broken up, for our men are demoralized through fear of 
cannibals and pythons, leopards and gorillas, and all sorts of 
horrible things. Canoes we cannot get ; both Livingstone and 
Cameron failed. Now, what do you say, Frank, shall we go 
south to Lake Lincoln, Lake Kamalondo, Lake Bemba, and 
down to the Zambezi ? ' 

*Ah, that's a fine trip, sir.' 

'Or shall we explore north-east of here until we strike the 
Muta Nzige, then strike across to Uganda, and back to 
Zanzibar? ' 

'Ah, that would be a fine job, sir, if we could do it.' 

'Or shall we follow this great river, which for all these 
thousands of years has been flowing northward through 
hundreds, possibly thousands of miles, of which no one has 
ever heard a word? Fancy, by and by, after building or buy- 
ing canoes, floating down the river, day by day, to the Nile, or 
to some vast lake in the far north, or to the Congo and the 
Atlantic Ocean! Think of steamers from the mouth of the 
Congo to Lake Bemba ! ' 

' I say, sir, let us toss up, best two out of three to decide it ! ' 

' Toss away, Frank ; here is a rupee. Heads for the north 
and the Lualaba; tails for the south and Katanga.' 

Frank, with beaming face, tossed the coin high up. It 
showed tails ! 

He tossed again, and tails won six times running ! But de- 
spite the omen of the coin, and the long and short straws, I 
resolved to cling to the north and to the Lualaba. 

Frank replied, ' Sir, have no fear of me ! I shall stand by 
you. The last words of my dear old father were, " Stick by 
your master," and there is my hand, sir; you shall never 
have cause to doubt me.' And poor Frank kept his word like 
a true man. 



322 HENRY M. STANLEY 

Tippu-Tib eventually agreed, and signed a contract, and I 
gave him a promissory note for one thousand pounds. 

On the 5th of November, 1876, a force of about seven hun- 
dred people, consisting of Tippu-Tib's slaves and my expe- 
dition, departed from the town of Nyangwe and entered the 
dismal forest-land north. A straight line from this point to the 
Atlantic Ocean would measure one thousand and seventy 
miles ; another to the Indian Ocean would measure only nine 
hundred and twenty miles ; we had not reached the centre of 
the continent by seventy-five miles. 

Outside the woods blazed a blinding sunshine ; underneath 
that immense and everlasting roof-foliage were a solemn twi- 
light and the humid warmth of a Turkish bath. The trees 
shed continual showers of tropic dew. Down the boles and 
branches, massive creepers and slender vegetable cords, the 
warm moisture trickled and fell in great globes. The wet 
earth exhaled the moisture back in vapour, which, touching 
the cold, damp foliage overhung high above our heads, became 
distilled into showers. As we struggled on through the mud, 
the perspiration exuded from every pore. Our clothes were 
soon wet and heavy, with sweat and the fine vapoury rain. 
Every few minutes we crossed ditches filled with water, over- 
hung by depths of leafage. Our usual orderly line was there- 
fore soon broken; the column was miles in length. Every 
man required room to sprawl, and crawl, and scramble as he 
best could, and every fibre and muscle was required for that 
purpose. 

Sometimes prostrate forest-giants barred the road with a 
mountain of twigs and branches. The pioneers had to carve 
a passage through for the caravan and the boat sections. If I 
was so fortunate as to gain the summit of a hill, I inhaled long 
draughts of the pure air, and looked out over a sea of foliage 
stretching to all points of the compass. I had certainly seen 
forests before, but all others, compared to this, were mere 
faggots. It appalled the stoutest heart ; it disgusted me with 
its slush and reek, its gloom and monotony. 

For ten days we endured it ; then the Arabs declared they 
could go no further. As they were obstinate in this determina- 
tion, r had recourse to another arrangement. I promised them 
five hundred pounds if they would escort us twenty marches 



THROUGH THE DARK CONTINENT 323 

only. It was accepted. I proposed to strike for the river. On 
our way to it, we came to a village, whose sole street was 
adorned with one hundred and eighty-six skulls, laid in two 
parallel lines. The natives declared them to be the skulls of 
gorillas, but Professor Huxley, to whom I showed specimens, 
pronounced them to be human. 

Seventeen days from Nyangwe, we saw again the great 
river. Remembering the toil of the forest-march, and viewing 
the stately breadth and calm flow of the mighty stream, I here 
resolved to launch my boat for the last time. 

While we screwed the sections together, a small canoe, with 
two Bagenya fishermen, appeared in front of our camp by the 
river. 

'Brothers!' we hailed them, 'we wish to cross the river. 
Bring your canoes and ferry us across. We will pay you well 
with cowries and bright beads.* 

'Who are you?' 

'We are from Nyangwe.' 

' Ah ! you are Wasambye ! ' 

'No, we have a white man as chief.' 

' If he fills my canoe with shells, I will go and tell my people 
you wish to go over.' 

'We will give you ten shells for the passage of every 
man.' 

'We want a thousand for each man.' 

' That is too much ; come, we will give you twenty shells for 
every man.' 

' Not for ten thousand, my brother. We do not want you to 
cross the river. Go back, Wasambye ; you are bad. Wasambye 
are bad, bad, bad ! ' 

They departed, singing the wildest, weirdest note I ever 
heard. I subsequently discovered it to be a kind of savage- 
telegraphy, which I came to dread, as it always preceded 
trouble. 

About noon, the boat was launched for her final work. 
When we rowed across the river, the mere sight of her long 
oars, striking the water with uniform movement, alarmed the 
unsophisticated aborigines. They yielded at last, and the 
double caravan was transported to the left bank. We passed 
our first night in the Wenya land in quietness; but, in the 



324 HENRY M. STANLEY 

morning, the natives had disappeared. Placing thirty-six of 
the people in the boat, we floated down the river with the cur- 
rent, close to the left bank, along which the land-party 
marched. But the river bore us down much faster than the 
land-party was able to proceed. The two divisions lost touch 
of one another for three days. 

Nothing could be more pacific than the solitary boat gliding 
down on the face of the stream, without a movement of oar or 
paddle; but its appearance, nevertheless, was hailed by the 
weird war-cries of the Wenya. The villages below heard the 
notes, shivered with terror, and echoed the warning cry 'to 
beware of strangers afloat.' 

We came to the confluence of the Ruiki with the Lualaba. 
I formed a camp at the point to await our friends. I rowed up 
the Ruiki to search for them. Returning two hours later, I 
found the camp was being attacked by hosts of savages. 

On the third day the land-column appeared, weary, hag- 
gard, sick, and low-spirited. Nevertheless, nothing was to be 
gained by a halt. We were in search of friendly savages, if 
such could be found, where we might rest. But, as day after 
day passed on, we found the natives increasing rather than 
abating in wild rancour, and unreasonable hate of strangers. 
At every curve and bend they ' telephoned' along the river the 
warning signals; the forests on either bank flung hither and 
thither the strange echoes ; their huge wooden drums sounded 
the muster for fierce resistance; reed arrows, tipped with 
poison, were shot at us from the jungle as we glided by. To 
add to our distress, the small-pox attacked the caravan, and 
old and young victims of the pest were flung daily into the 
river. What a terrible land! Both banks, shrouded in tall, 
primeval forests, were filled with invisible, savage enemies; 
out of every bush glared eyes flaming with hate ; in the stream 
lurked the crocodiles to feed upon the unfortunates; the air 
seemed impregnated with the seeds of death ! 

On the 1 8th of December, our miseries culminated in a grand 
effort of the savages to annihilate us. The cannibals had 
manned the topmost branches of the trees above the village 
of Vinya Njara; they lay like pards crouching amidst the 
garden-plants, or coiled like pythons in clumps of sugar-cane. 
Maddened by wounds, we became deadly in our aim ; the rifle 



THROUGH THE DARK CONTINENT 325 

seldom failed. But, while we skirmished In the woods, the 
opposite bank of the river belched flotillas, which recalled us 
to the front, and the river-bank. For three days, with scarcely 
any rest, the desperate fighting lasted. Finally, TIppu-TIb 
appeared. His men cleared the woods; and by night I led a 
party across the river, and captured thirty-six canoes belong- 
ing to those who had annoyed us on the right bank. Then 
peace was made. I purchased twenty-three canoes, and sur- 
rendered the others. 

Beyond Vinya Njara, the Arabs would not proceed, and I 
did not need them. We were far enough from Nyangwe. Its 
seductive life could no longer tempt my people. Accordingly, 
we prepared to part. 

I embarked my followers in the canoes and boat. TIppu- 
TIb ranged his people along the bank. His Wanyamuezi 
chanted the mournful farewell. We surrendered ourselves to 
the strong flood, which bore us along to whatever Fate 
reserved in store for us. 

Dense woods covered both banks and Islands. Though 
populous settlements met our eyes frequently, our intercourse 
with the aborigines was of a fitfully fierce character. With 
an audacity sprung from ignorance, and cannibal greed, they 
attacked us with ever fresh relays. A few weak villages al- 
lowed our flotilla to glide by unmolested, but the majority 
despatched their bravest warriors, who assailed us with blind 
fury. Important tributaries, such as the Uruidi, the Loweva, 
the Leopold, and the Lufu, opened wide gaps in the dark 
banks, and lazy creeks oozed from amid low flats and swamps. 

Armies of parrots screamed overhead as they flew across the 
river ; aquatic birds whirred by us to less disturbed districts ; 
legions of monkeys sported in the branchy depths ; howling 
baboons alarmed the solitudes ; crocodiles haunted the sandy 
points and Islets ; herds of hippopotami grunted thunderously 
at our approach ; elephants bathed their sides by the margin 
of the river; there was unceasing vibration from millions of 
Insects throughout the livelong day. The sky was an azure 
dome, out of which the sun shone large and warm ; the river 
was calm, and broad, and brown. While we floated past the 
wilderness, we were cheered by Its calm and restful aspect, 
but the haunts of the wild men became positively hateful. 



326 HENRY M. STANLEY 

Such were my experiences until I arrived at what is now 
known as the Stanley Falls. The savages gathered about us 
on the river, and lined the shore to witness the catastrophe, 
but I faced the left bank, drove the natives away, and landed. 
For twenty-two days I toiled to get past the seven cataracts — 
my left flank attacked by the ruthless and untiring natives, 
my right protected by the boiling and raging flood. On the 
28th of January, my boats were safe below the Falls. 

I was just twenty miles north of the Equator. Since I first 
sighted the mysterious Lualaba, I had only made about sixty 
miles of westing in a journey of nearly four hundred miles. 
Therefore its course had been mainly northward and Nile- 
ward, almost parallel with the trend of the Tanganyika. 

I myself was still in doubt as to what river-system it 
belonged to. But below the Falls, the Lualaba, nearly a mile 
wide, curved northwest. ' Ha ! it is the Niger, or the Congo,' I 
said. I had not much time to speculate, however. Every hour 
was replete with incidents. The varied animal life on the 
shores, the effervescing face of the turbid flood, the subtle 
rising and sinking of the greedy crocodile, the rampant plunge 
and trumpet snort of the hippos, the unearthly, flesh-curdling 
cry of the relentless cannibal — had it not been for these, 
which gave tone to our life, there was every disposition to 
brood, and dream, and glide on insensibly to eternal forget- 
fulness. Looked I ahead, I viewed the stern river streaming 
away — far away into a tremulous, vaporous ocean. If you 
followed that broad band of living waters, quick and alert as 
the senses might be at first, you soon became conscious that 
you were subsiding into drowsiness as the eyes rested on the 
trembling vapours exhaled by river and forest, which covered 
the distance as with silver gauze; then the unknown lands 
loomed up in the imagination, with most fantastic features, 
the fancy roamed through pleasing medleys, — 

* And balmy dreams calmed all our pains, 
And softly hushed our woes.' 

But see ! we have arrived at the confluence of the Lualaba 
with a river which rivals it in breadth. Down the latter, a 
frantic host of feathered warriors urge a fleet of monstrous 
canoes. They lift their voices in a vengeful chorus, the dense 



THROUGH THE DARK CONTINENT 327 

forest repeats it, until it flies pealing from bank to bank. The 
war-horns are blown with deafening blasts, the great drums 
boom out a sound which fills our ears and deafens our sense 
of hearing. For a moment, we are aghast at the terrific view ! 
The instinct of most of our party is to fly. Fly from that 
infuriate rush ! Impossible ! The rifles of our boat are directed 
against the fugitives. They are bidden to return, to form a 
line, to drop anchor. The shields which have been our booty 
from many a fight are lifted to bulwark the non-combatants, 
the women and the children ; and every rifleman takes aim, 
waiting for the word. It is ' neck or nothing ' ! I have no 
time to pray, or take sentimental looks around, or to breathe 
a savage farewell to the savage world ! 

There are fifty-four canoes. The foremost is a Leviathan 
among native craft. It has eighty paddlers, standing in two 
rows, with spears poised for stabbing, their paddles knobbed 
with ivory, and the blades carved. There are eight steersmen 
at the stern, a group of prime young warriors at the bow, 
capering gleefully, with shield and spear ; every arm is ringed 
with broad ivory bracelets, their heads gay with parrot- 
feathers. 

The Leviathan bears down on us with racing speed, its con- 
sorts on either flank spurting up the water into foam , and shoot- 
ing up jets with their sharp prows; a thrilling chant from 
two thousand throats rises louder and louder on our hearing. 

Presently, the poised spears are launched, and a second later 
my rifles respond with a ripping, crackling explosion, and the 
dark bodies of the canoes and paddlers rush past us. For a 
short time, the savages are paralyzed ; but they soon recover. 
They find there is death in those flaming tubes in the hands 
of the strangers, and, with possibly greater energy than they 
advanced, they retreat, the pursued becoming the pursuers 
in hot chase. 

My blood is up. It is a murderous world, and I have begun 
to hate the filthy, vulturous shoals who inhabit it. .1 pursue 
them up-stream, up to their villages ; I skirmish in their streets, 
drive them pell-mell into the woods beyond, and level their 
ivory temples ; with frantic haste I fire the huts, and end the 
scene by towing the canoes into mid-stream and setting them 
adrift ! 



328 HENRY M. STANLEY 

Now, suspecting everything with the semblance of man, like 
hard-pressed stags, wearied with fighting, our nerves had 
become unstrung. We were still only in the middle of the con- 
tinent, and yet we were being weeded out of existence, day 
by day, by twos and threes. The hour of utter exhaustion 
was near, when we should lie down like lambs, and offer our 
throats to the cannibal butchers. 

But relief and rest were near. The last great affluent had 
expanded the breadth of the Lualaba to four miles. A series 
of islands were formed in mid-river, lengthy and narrow, 
lapping one another; and between each series there were 
broad channels. I sheered off the mainland, entered these 
channels, and was shut out from view. 

'Allah,' as I cried out to my despairing people, 'has pro- 
vided these liquid solitudes for us. Bismillah, men, and 
forward.' 

But, every two or three days, the channels, flowing diago- 
nally, floated us in view of the wild men of the mainland. With 
drumming and horn-blowing, these ruthless people came on, 
ignoring the fact that their intended victims might hold their 
lives dear, might fight strenuously for their existence. The 
silly charms and absurd fetishes inspired the credulous natives 
with a belief in their invulnerability. They advanced with a 
bearing which, by implication, I understood to mean, 'It is 
useless to struggle, you know. You cannot evade the fate in 
store for you ! Ha, ha ; meat, meat, we shall have meat to-day ! ' 
and they dashed forward with the blind fury of crocodiles in 
sight of their prey, and the ferocious valour of savages who 
believe themselves invincible. 

What then? Why, I answered them with the energy of 
despair, and tore through them with blazing rifles, leaving 
them wondering and lamenting. 

I sought the mid-channel again, and wandered on with the 
current, flanked by untenanted islets, which were buried in 
tropical shade by clustered palms and the vivid leafage of 
paradise. Ostracised by savage humanity, the wilds em- 
braced us, and gave us peace and rest. In the voiceless depths 
of the watery wilderness we encountered neither treachery 
nor guile. Therefore we clung to them as long as we could, 
and floated down, down, hundreds of miles. 



THROUGH THE DARK CONTINENT 329 

The river curved westward, then south-westward. Ah, 
straight for the mouth of the Congo! It widened daily; the 
channels became numerous. Sometimes in crossing from one 
to another there was an open view of water from side to side. 
It might have been a sea for all we knew, excepting that there 
was a current, and the islands glided by us. 

After forty days, I saw hills ; the river contracted, gathered 
its channels one by one, until at last we floated down a united 
and powerful river, banked by mountains. Four days later 
we emerged out of this on a circular expanse. The white cliffs 
of Albion were duplicated by white sand-chffs on our right, 
at the entrance, capped by grassy downs. Cheered at the 
sight, Frank Pocock cried out, 'Why, here are the cliffs of 
Dover, and this singular expanse we shall call Stanley Pool ! ' 

The stretch of uninterrupted navigation I had just de- 
scended measured one thousand and seventy statute miles. At 
the lower end of Stanley Pool, the river contracted again, and 
presently launched itself down a terraced steep, in a series 
of furious rapids. 

Resolved to cling to the river, we dragged our canoes by 
land past the rapids, lowered them again into the river, pad- 
dled down a few miles with great rock-precipices on either 
hand. We encountered another rapid, and again we drew our 
canoes overland. It grew to be a protracted and fatal task. 
At Kalulu Falls six of my men were drowned. Accidents oc- 
curred almost every day. Casualties became frequent. Twice 
myself and crew were precipitated down the rapids. Frank 
Pocock, unwarned by the almost every-day calamity, insisted 
that his crew should shoot the Massassa Falls. The whirlpool 
below sucked all down to the soundless depths, out of which 
Frank and two young Zanzibarls never emerged alive. 

But still resolute to persevere, I continued the desperate 
task, and tolled on and on, now in danger of cataracts, then 
besieged by famine, until, on the 31st of July, I arrived at a 
point on the Lower Congo, last seen by Captain Tuckey, an 
English Naval officer, in 18 16. I knew then, beyond dispute 
of the most captious critic, that the Lualaba, whose mys- 
tery had wooed Livingstone to his death, was no other than 
the 'lucid, long-winding Zaire,' as sung by Camoens, or the 
mighty Congo. 



330 HENRY M. STANLEY 

Now, farewell, brave boat! seven thousand miles, up and 
down broad Africa, thou hast accompanied me ! For over five 
thousand miles thou hast been my home! Now lift her up 
tenderly, boys, so tenderly, and let her rest ! 

Wayworn and feeble, we began our overland march, through 
a miserable country inhabited by a sordid people. They 
would not sell me food, unless for gin, they said. Gin! and 
from me! 'Why, men, two and a half years ago I left the 
Indian Sea, and can I have gin ? Give us food that we may 
live, or beware of hungry men ! ' They gave us refuse of their 
huts, some pea-nuts, and stunted bananas. We tottered on 
our way to the Atlantic, a scattered column of long and 
lean bodies, dysentery, ulcers, and scurvy fast absorbing the 
remnant of life left by famine. 

I despatched couriers ahead. Two days from Boma, they 
returned with abundance. We revived, and, staggering, ar- 
rived at Boma on the 9th of August, 1877, and an international 
gathering of European merchants met me, and, smiling a 
warm welcome, told me kindly that I 'had done right well.' 

Three days later, I gazed upon the Atlantic Ocean, and I 
saw the puissant river flowing into the bosom of that bound- 
less, endless sea. But, grateful as I felt to Him who had 
enabled me to pierce the Dark Continent from east to west, 
my heart was charged with grief, and my eyes with tears, at 
the thought of the many comrades and friends I had lost. 

The unparalleled fidelity of my people to me demanded 
that I should return them to their homes. Accordingly, I ac- 
companied them round the Cape of Good Hope to Zanzibar, 
where, in good time, we arrived, to the great joy of their 
friends and relatives, when father embraced son, and brother 
brother, and mothers their daughters, and kinsmen hailed 
as heroes the men who had crossed the continent. 

Only the inevitable limitations of space prevent a citation from 
the fuller account of this expedition in Stanley's book, ' Through 
the Dark Continent,' of some passages illustrating the loyal and 
tender relations between him and his black followers. Nothing in 
the story exceeds in human interest the final scene, his conveying of 
his surviving force, from the mouth of the Congo, around the Cape, 
to their homes in Zanzibar, so removing their depression arising 
from the fear that, having found again his own people, he may leave 
them; their gladness at the re-assurance he gives; the arrival at 



THROUGH THE DARK CONTINENT 331 

Zanzibar, after three weeks' voyage; the astonishment and delight 
of the reunion with relatives and friends ; the sorrowful parting with 
their master. When he went on board the steamer to sail for Europe, 
a deputation of the best followed him on board, to offer their help in 
reaching his home, if he needed it, and to declare that they would 
start for no new adventure on the continent until they heard that 
he had safely reached his own land. 

The second pay-day was devoted to hearing the claims for 
wages due to the faithful dead. Poor, faithful souls! With 
an ardour and a fidelity unexpected, and an immeasurable 
confidence, they had followed me to the very death! True, 
negro nature had often asserted itself; but it was, after all, 
but human nature. They had never boasted that they were 
heroes, but they exhibited truly heroic stuff while coping 
with the varied terrors of the hitherto untrodden, and ap- 
parently endless, wilds of broad Africa. 

They were sweet and sad moments, those of parting. What 
a long, long and true friendship was here sundered ! Through 
what strange vicissitudes of life had they not followed me! 
What wild and varied scenes had we not seen together ! What 
a noble fidelity these untutored souls had exhibited! The 
chiefs were those who had followed me to Ujiji in 1871 : they 
had been witnesses of the joy of Livingstone at the sight of 
me; they were the men to whom I entrusted the safe-guard 
of Livingstone on his last and fatal journey ; who had mourned 
by his corpse at Muilla, and borne the illustrious dead to the 
Indian Ocean. 

In a flood of sudden recollection, all the stormy period, here 
ended, rushed in upon my mind; the whole panorama of 
danger and tempest through which these gallant fellows had 
so staunchly stood by me — these gallant fellows now parting 
from me ! Rapidly, as in some apocalyptic trance, every vision, 
every scene of strife with Man and Nature, through which 
these poor men and women had borne me company, and 
solaced me by the simple sympathy of common sufifering, 
came hurrying across my memory; for each face before me 
was associated with some adventure, or some peril ; reminded 
me of some triumph, or of some loss. 

What a wild, weird retrospect it was, that mind's flash over 
the troubled past ! So like a troublous dream ! 

And for years and years to come, in many homes in Zanzi- 



332 HENRY M. STANLEY 

bar, there will be told the great story of our journey, and the 
actors in it will be heroes among their kith and kin. For me, 
too, they are heroes, these poor ignorant children of Africa; 
for, from the first deadly struggle in savage Ituru, to the 
last struggling rush into Embomma, they had rallied to my 
voice like veterans ; and in the hour of need they had never 
failed me. And thus, aided by their willing hands and by 
their loyal hearts, the expedition had been successful, and the 
three great problems of the Dark Continent's geography 
had been fairly solved. Laus Deo. 



CHAPTER XVI 
FOUNDING THE CONGO STATE 

THE first work, exploration, was done. Now for the harder 
task, civilisation. That was henceforth the main purpose 
and passion of Stanley's life. For him, the quest of wider 
knowledge meant a stage towards the betterment of mankind. He 
had laid open a tract comparable in extent and resources to the basin 
of the Amazon, or the Mississippi. What his vision saw, what his su- 
preme effort was given to, was the transformation of its millions of 
people from barbarism, oppressed by all the ills of ignorance, super- 
stition, and cruelty, into happy and virtuous men and women. His 
aim was as pure and high as Livingstone's. But, as a means, he 
looked not alone to the efforts of isolated missionaries, but to the 
influx of great tides of beneficent activities. 

He sought to pour the civilisation of Europe into the barbarism 
of Africa, and the prime force to which he looked was the natural, 
legitimate desire for gain, by ways of traffic; the African and the 
European both eager for the exchanges which should be for the good 
of both. With this, he counted on the scientific curiosity, and the 
philanthropic zeal, of the civilised world to assist the work. 

The curse of interior Africa had been its isolation. Its only con- 
tact with the outer world had been through the ferocious slave- 
trade, carried on by Europeans on its western shoje through four 
centuries, until suppressed under English leadership, but still main- 
tained by Arabs, working wholesale ruin from the east. 

A natural channel, and an invitation to legitimate and wholesome 
commerce, was the vast waterway of the Upper Congo, which 
Stanley had just discovered. The obstacle which had prevented its 
employment was a strip of two hundred miles next the sea, where a 
succession of cataracts and rapids, through rough and sterile hills, 
made navigation impossible. This strip must be pierced, first by a 
wagon-road, later by a railroad. Its human obstacles, principally 
the rapacious African traders, or * middle-men,' shrewd, greedy, and 
jealous of the white man's intrusion, must be propitiated. Then, 
from mouth to source of the river, stations must be established as 
centres of trade and of friendly intercourse. 

That was Stanley's plan; and for fit and adequate support he 
looked first to the English people and the English Government. 

Before he touched English soil, on his return at the end of 1877, 
his letters in the ' Telegraph ' had hinted at the vast and inviting 
political possibilities which the new country offered to England. 



334 HENRY M. STANLEY 

With scarcely a breathing-space, he threw himself into the work 
of persuading, preaching, imploring, the ruling powers in English 
Commerce and in public affairs to seize this grand opportunity. 

He spoke in all the commercial centres, especially in Manchester 
and Liverpool, setting forth the immense advantages to trade of 
such an enterprise. He had audience with such public men as would 
listen, or seem to listen. But the Government and the people of 
England turned a deaf ear. 

Stanley was, by some, called ' Quixotic ' ; by others, an ' adven- 
turer,' or 'a buccaneer.' Others professed to be shocked, and said 
he put Commerce before Religion ! ! So he received no help or encour- 
agement from Britain. 

But, in Belgium, King Leopold was already keenly interested in 
African possibilities. In the summer of 1877, he had convened a 
company of geographers and scientific men, who had organised the 
* International African Association ' for exploration, and, perhaps, 
something further. Their first essays were mostly on the eastern 
coast. 

On Stanley's return, at the end of 1877, he was met at Marseilles 
by messengers of King Leopold, to urge him to come to Brussels for 
a conference, and for the initiation of further African enterprise. 

He excused himself on the plea of physical exhaustion and unfit- 
ness for further undertakings. But he had other reasons, in his 
strong preference for England as his supporting power. After half 
a year of ill-success in that quarter, in August, he met King Leo- 
pold's Commissioners in Paris. In the discussion there, the vague 
purpose to do something scientific or commercial in the basin of the 
Congo crystallised into Stanley's plan as given above. There was 
close study, analysis, and detail ; the papers were transmitted to the 
King, and Stanley kept in touch with the project. But again he urged 
upon England that she should take the lead; and, again, in vain. 

Thereupon, he accepted an invitation to the Royal Palace at 
Brussels in November, and there met 'various persons of more or 
less note in the commercial and monetary world, from England, 
Germany, France, Belgium, and Holland.' An organisation was 
made, under the name, 'Comite d'fetude du Haut Congo ' (which 
afterward became practically identified with the 'International'). 
Plans were adopted on a modest scale ; the sum of twenty thousand 
pounds was subscribed for immediate use; and Stanley was put in 
charge of the work. Colonel Strauch, of the Belgian Army, was 
chosen President of the Society ; and he, and his associates, selected 
Stanley's European assistants, and acted as his base of supplies 
during the five and a half years — January, 1879, to June, 1884 — 
which he spent in the work. 

The story of that work is told at large in Stanley's book, 'The 
Congo, and the Founding of its Free State.' Less full of adventure 
and wonder than his preceding and following works, it is rich in 
material for whoever studies the relations, actual and possible, 



FOUNDING THE CONGO STATE 335 

between civilised and savage men. The merest outline of it is given 
here, with quotations chosen mainly to illustrate the character of its 
leader. For the nucleus of his working force, he went back to Zanzi- 
bar, and chose seventy men, forty of whom had before gone with 
him through Africa, and who, as a body, now served him with a like 
fidelity and devotion,* He took them around the continent, by Suez 
and Gibraltar, and reached the mouth of the Congo in August, 1879. 

August 15, 1879. Arrived off the mouth of the Congo. Two 
years have passed since I was here before, after my descent 
of the great River, in 1877. Now, having been the first to 
explore it, I am to be the first who shall prove its utility to 
the world. I now debark my seventy Zanzibaris and Somalis 
for the purpose of beginning to civilise the Congo Basin. 

With a force recruited up to two hundred and ten negroes, and 
fourteen Europeans, and with four tiny steamers, he set out for the 
mastery of the river. A few miles' steaming away from the trading 
establishments at the mouth, up to the head of navigation, and the 
first station, Vivi, is planted; wooden huts brought from England 
are set up, and wagon-roads are made. Then, a Labour of Hercules, 
transport must be found for steamers and goods through a long 
stretch of rugged hills. After exploration, the route must be chosen ; 
then the stubborn, dogged labour of road-building, over mountains 
and along precipices; the Chief, hammer and drill in hand, showing 
his men how to use their tools ; endless marching and hauling ; and, at 
last, a whole year's work (1880) is done; forward and backward, they 
had travelled two thousand five hundred and thirty-two miles, and, 
as a result, they had won a practicable way of fifty- two miles — ' not 
a holiday affair,' this! Strenuous toil, a diet of beans, goat's meat, 
and sodden bananas ; the muggy atmosphere of the Congo Canon, 
with fierce heat from the rocks, and bleak winds through the gorges ! 
Six European and twenty-two native lives, and thirteen whites in- 
valided and retired, were part of the price. 

Now, a second station, Isangila, is built; here, as at Vivi, a treaty 
is made with the natives, and land for the station fairly bought. 

Next, we have eighty-eight miles of waterway, ,and, then, another 
station at Manyanga. Here came a plague of fever, and the force was 
further weakened by garrisons left for the three stations. Stanley 
was desperately ill; after ten days' fight with the fever, the end' 
seemed at hand; he prescribed for himself sixty grains of quinine, 
and a few minims of hydrobromic acid, in an ounce of Madeira wine ; 
under this overpowering dose his senses reeled; he summoned his 
European comrades for a farewell, while Death loomed before him, 
and a vision of a lonely grave. Grasping the hand of his faithful 
Albert, he struggled long and vainly to speak the words of a parting 
charge ; and when,_at last, he uttered an intelligible sentence, — that 



336 HENRY M. STANLEY 

success brought a rush of relief, and he cried, ' I am saved ! ' Then 
came unconsciousness for twenty-four hours; and, afterwards, just 
life enough to feel hungry; and thus he reached convalescence and 
recovery. 

A push of eight days further, to Stanley Pool, where begins the 
uninterrupted navigation of the Upper Congo. Here he finds that 
M. de Brazza, in the pay of France, though aided by funds from the 
Comite International of Belgium, having heard of Stanley's doings, 
has raced across from the sea, and bargained with the natives for a 
great strip on the north bank of the river. So, for this region, Stanley 
secured the south bank. At last, greatly to his encouragement and 
help, came a re-enforcement of the good Zanzibaris. 

Early in 1882, he planted a fine station, named Leopoldville, in 
honour of the monarch whom Stanley heartily admired, and relied 
on. On this settlement, when he had finished it to his mind, Stanley 
looked with special pride and complacency : the block-house, impreg- 
nable against fire or musketry ; the broad-streeted village for his na- 
tives ; their gardens of young bananas and vegetables ; the plentiful 
water and fuel ; the smooth promenade, where he imagined his 
Europeans strolling on Sundays, to survey the noble prospect of 
river, cataract, forests, and mountain. 

Stanley, however, saw more than met the eye. He dwelt on the 
possible future of that magnificent country, with its well-watered 
soil, now neglected, but richer than any in the whole Mississippi 
Valley. ' It is like looking at the intelligent face of a promising child : 
though we find nought in it but innocence, we fondly imagine that 
we see the germs of a future great genius, — perhaps a legislator, a 
savant, warrior, or a poet.' 

Soon after, a violent fever so disabled him that he was obliged 
to return to Europe, in 1882. He made his report to the Comite 
de r Association Internationale du Congo, which had assumed the 
authority and duties of the Comite d'Etude. He showed them that 
he had accomplished all, and more than all, his original commis- 
sion aimed at, and urged them to complete the work by building 
a railroad along the lower river, extending the chain of stations, and 
obtaining concessions of authority from the chiefs along the whole 
course of the Congo. 

To all this the Committee assented, but they were urgent that 
Stanley should return to take charge. He consented, in spite of 
impaired health, and started back, after only six weeks in Europe; 
making condition only, and that with all the persuasiveness at his 
command, that they should send him able assistants, instead of the 
irresponsible, flighty-headed youngsters on whom he had been 
obliged so largely to rely. He dreaded what they might have done, 
or undone, in his absence. His fears were justified; his journey up 
the river lay through a mournful succession of neglected and 
blighted stations ; and Leopoldville, of which he had hoped so much, 
was a grass-grown hungry waste ! He did his best to repair the mis- 




HENRY M. STANLEY, I< 



FOUNDING THE CONGO STATE 337 

chief, and pushed on up the river, the one dominating idea being to 
estabhsh a succession of stations for a thousand miles along the 
Upper Congo, as far as Stanley Falls. 

Briefly, his route from the ocean covered no miles of steaming; 
then a land march of 235 miles to Stanley Pool, whence the Upper 
Congo gives clear navigation, for 1070 miles, to Stanley Falls. Nu- 
merous tributaries multiply the navigable waterways to about 6000 
miles. The district thus watered Stanley estimated as a square of 757 
miles either way, a superficies of 57,400 square miles, nearly the di- 
mensions of the future Free State. He found the Lower Congo region 
unproductive, yielding at first only ground-nuts, palm-oil, and feed- 
cake for cattle, and, further up-stream, some production of rubber, 
gum-copal, and ivory. But the Upper Congo was rich in valuable 
forests and in fertile soil ; woods for building, for furniture, and dyes ; 
gums, ivory of elephant and hippopotamus; india-rubber, coffee, 
gum-copal, and much besides. AH this potentiality of ' wealth, 
beyond the dreams of avarice,' could only be actualised through the 
perfection of communication : already Stanley was eagerly planning 
for a railway that should link the Upper Congo with the sea. 

Now, for a year and a half, his principal care was to negotiate 
treaties with the chiefs, which should give political jurisdiction over 
the territory. Throughout the enterprise, amiable relations with the 
natives were most successfully cultivated ; friction was overcome 
by patience and tact ; firmness, combined with gentleness, in almost 
every instance averted actual strife. The chiefs were willing enough 
to cede their political sovereignty, receiving in each case some sub- 
stantial recompense ; foreign intrusion was barred ; and the private 
rights and property of the natives were respected. 

Over four hundred chiefs were thus dealt with, and so the founda- 
tions of the Free State were established. On his journey up the river 
he was constantly meeting tribes who were his old acquaintances of 
six years before. Old friends they could scarcely be called, but new 
friends they readily became. A halo of wonder hung round his first 
advent; the curiosity born of that memory was heightened by the 
marvel of the steamboats ; the offer of barter was always welcome, 
and the bales of cloth, the brass rods, the trinkets, — first as a pre- 
sent, then in trade, — were the beginnings of familiar intercourse. 
Stanley's diplomacies, his peace-makings between hostile tribes, 
his winning of good-will and enforcement of respect, make a story 
that should be studied in his full narrative. 

The summer of 1884 found the work of founding the State virtually 
finished, and Stanley nearly finished, too. There had been difficulties 
of all kinds, in which almost the entire responsibility had rested on 
his shoulders, and he had reached the limit of his strength ; could he 
but hand over his work to a fit successor ! He writes : — 

There was a man at that time in retreat, near Mount 
Carmel. If he but emerged from his seclusion, he had all the 



338 HENRY M. STANLEY 

elements in him of the man that was needed : indefatigable 
industry ; that magnetism which commands affection, obedi- 
ence, and perfect trust ; that power* of reconciHng men, no 
matter of what colour, to their duties ; that cheerful promise 
that in him lay security and peace; that loving solicitude 
which betokens the kindly chief. That man was General 
Gordon. For six months I waited his coming ; finally, letters 
came announcing his departure for the Soudan; and, soon 
after, arrived Lieutenant-colonel Sir Francis de Winton, of 
the Royal Artillery, in his place. 

General Gordon had arranged to take the Governorship of the 
Lower Congo, under Stanley, who was to govern the Upper Congo ; 
and, together, they were to destroy the slave-trade at its roots. 
General Gordon wrote a letter to Stanley in which he said that he 
should be happy to serve under him, and work according to Stanley's 
ideas. When Sir Francis de Winton went out, Stanley transferred to 
him the Government of the Congo, and returned to England. 

This same year, 1884, saw the recognition of the new State by the 
civilised powers. England's contribution was mainly indirect. She 
had previously made a treaty with Portugal, allowing her a strip of 
African coast, as the result of which she could now have excluded 
everyone else from the Congo. Manchester, Liverpool, and Glasgow, 
through their Chambers of Commerce, had remonstrated in vain. 

The United States, meanwhile, had been the first to recognise the 
new State of the Congo. Spurred by General Sandford, formerly 
Minister to Belgium, who appealed, on the one hand, to American 
interest in Livingstone and Stanley, and, on the other hand, to 
commercial possibilities, the American Senate, on April 10, 1884, 
authorised President Arthur to recognise the International African 
Association as a governing power on the Congo River. This action, 
says Stanley, was the birth to new life of the Association. 

In view of the menace to the world's trade by the Anglo-Por- 
tuguese treaty, Bismarck's strong personality now came to the 
front, somewhat prompted by King Leopold. Stanley admired 
the straightforward vigor of the Gerrhan as much as he admired the 
philanthropy of the Belgian rule. Bismarck summoned a Conference 
at Berlin, to which the leading European powers sent delegates. 
There were also delegates from the United States, and with these 
Stanley was present as their ' technical adviser,' and, naturally, had 
a good hearing. 

The Conference was mainly interested to secure the commercial 
freedom of the Niger and the Congo. It gave definite recognition to 
the Congo Free State. It did map-making with a free hand, marking 
out European dominions in Africa, with especial profit to France 
and Portugal, through the adroitness of the French Ambassador, 



FOUNDING THE CONGO STATE 339 

says Stanley, and with the concurrence of Prince Bismarck. Also, 
quite incidentally, so to speak, the Conference proceeded to lay 
down the formalities by which a European power was to establish 
itself on virgin African soil, which consisted, virtually, in putting up 
a sign-board ' to whom it may concern.' By this simple process, and 
with no trouble of exploration, purchase, or settlement, Bismarck 
then calmly proceeded to appropriate a large slice of Eastern Africa, 
which had been opened up by the British. 

The future course of African affairs, including the vesting of the 
Congo sovereignty in King Leopold, has no place in this story. 
In this whole chapter of Stanley's work, perhaps the most signi- 
ficant feature, as to his character, and, also, as a lesson in the art 
of civilisation, is his manner of dealing with the natives. As a 
concrete instance may be given the story of Ngalyema and the 
fetish. 

Ngalyema, chief of Stanley Pool district, had demanded 
and received four thousand five hundred dollars' worth of 
cotton, silk, and velvet goods for granting me the privilege of 
establishing a station in a wilderness of a place at the com- 
mencement of up-river navigation. Owing to this, I had ad- 
vanced with my wagons to within ten miles of the Pool. I had 
toiled at this work the best part of two years, and whenever 
I cast a retrospective glance at what the task had cost me, I 
felt that it was no joke, and such that no money would bribe 
me to do over again. Such a long time had elapsed since 
Ngalyema had received his supplies, that he affected to forget 
that he had received any; and, as I still continued to advance 
towards him after the warnings of his messengers, he collected 
a band of doughty warriors, painted their bodies with diagonal 
stripes of ochre, soot, chalk, and yellow, and issued fiercely to 
meet me. 

Meantime, the true owners of the soil had enlightened me 
respecting Ngalyema's antecedents. He was only an enter- 
prising native trader in ivory and slaves, who had fled from 
the north bank ; but, though he had obtained so much money 
from me by pretences, I was not so indignant at this as at the 
audacity with which he chose to forget the transaction, and 
the impudent demand for another supply which underlay this. 
Ngalyema, having failed to draw any promise by sending 
messengers, thought he could extort it by appearing with a 
warlike company. Meantime, duly warned, I had prepared 
a surprise for him. 



340 HENRY M. STANLEY 

I had hung a great Chinese gong conspicuously near the 
principal tent. Ngalyema's curiosity would be roused. All my 
men were hidden, some in the steamboat on top of the wagon, 
and in its shadow was a cool place where the warriors would 
gladly rest after a ten-mile march ; other of my men lay still 
as death under tarpaulins, under bundles of grass, and in the 
bush round about the camp. By the time the drum-taps and 
horns announced Ngalyema's arrival, the camp seemed aban- 
doned except by myself and a few small boys. I was indo- 
lently seated in a chair, reading a book, and appeared too 
lazy to notice anyone; but, suddenly looking up, and seeing 
my 'brother Ngalyema,' and his warriors, scowlingly regard- 
ing me, I sprang up, and seized his hands, and affectionately 
bade him welcome, in the name of sacred fraternity, and 
offered him my own chair. 

He was strangely cold, and apparently disgruntled, and 
said : — 

'Has not my brother forgotten his road? What does he 
mean by coming to this country?' 

'Nay, it is Ngalyema who has forgotten the blood -bond 
which exists between us. It is Ngalyema who has forgotten 
the mountains of goods which I paid him. What words are 
these of my brother?' 

' Be warned, Rock-Breaker. Go back before it is too late. 
My elders and people all cry out against allowing the white 
man to come into our country. Therefore, go back before it 
be too late. Go back, I say, the way you came.* 

Speech and counter-speech followed. Ngalyema had ex- 
hausted his arguments ; but it was not easy to break faith and 
be uncivil, without plausible excuse. His eyes were reaching 
round seeking to discover an excuse to fight, when they rested 
on the round, burnished face of the Chinese gong. 

'What is that?' he said. 

* Ah, that — that is a fetish.' 

'A fetish! A fetish for what?' 

'It is a war-fetish, Ngalyema. The slightest sound of that 
would fill this empty camp with hundreds of angry warriors; 
they would drop from above, they would spring up from the 
ground, from the forest about, from everywhere.' 

' Sho ! Tell that story to the old women, and not to a chief 



FOUNDING THE CONGO STATE 341 

like Ngalyema. My boy tells me it is a kind of a bell. Strike 
it and let me hear it.' 

* Oh, Ngalyema, my brother, the consequences would be too 
dreadful ! Do not think of such a thing !' 

'Strike it, I say.' 

'Well, to oblige my dear brother Ngalyema, I will.' 

And I struck hard and fast, and the clangorous roll rang out 
like thunder in the stillness. Only for a few seconds, however, 
for a tempest of human voices was heard bursting into fright- 
ful discords, and from above, right upon the heads of the 
astonished warriors, leaped yelling men ; and from the tents, 
the huts, the forest round about, they came by sixes, dozens, 
and scores, yelling like madmen, and seemingly animated with 
uncontrollable rage. The painted warriors became panic- 
stricken ; they flung their guns and powder-kegs away, forgot 
their chief, and all thoughts of loyalty, and fled on the instant, 
fear lifting their heels high in the air ; or, tugging at their eye- 
balls, and kneading the senses confusedly, they saw, heard, 
and suspected nothing, save that the limbo of fetishes had 
suddenly broken loose ! 

But Ngalyema and his son did not fly. They caught the 
tails of my coat, and we began to dance from side to side, a 
loving triplet, myself being foremost, to ward off the blow 
savagely aimed at my 'brothers,' and cheerfully crying out, 
' Hold fast to me, my brothers. I will defend you to the last 
drop of my blood. Come one, come all,' etc. 

Presently the order was given, 'Fall in!' and quickly the 
leaping forms became rigid, and the men stood in two long 
lines in beautiful order, with eyes front, as though ' at atten- 
tion.' Then Ngalyema relaxed his hold of my coat-tails, and 
crept from behind, breathing more freely; and, lifting his 
hand to his mouth, exclaimed, in genuine surprise 'Eh, 
Mamma! where did all these people come from?' 

'Ah, Ngalyema, did I not tell you that thing was a powerful 
fetish ? Let me strike it again, and show you what else it can 
do.' 

'No ! no ! no !' he shrieked. * I have seen enough !' 

The day ended peacefully. I was invited to hasten on to 
Stanley Pool. The natives engaged themselves by the score 
to assist me in hauling the wagons. My progress was thence- 



342 HENRY M. STANLEY 

forward steady and uninterrupted, and in due time the 
wagons and goods-columns arrived at their destination. 

But this was only one incident in what may be called the ' educa- 
tion of Ngalyema.' Seldom has teacher had a more unpromising 
pupil. He was a braggart, a liar, greedy, capricious, abjectly super- 
stitious, mischief-making. Stanley's diary shows how he handled 
him during three months of neighbourhood. For instance, Ngal- 
yema begged certain articles as presents ; Stanley coupled the gift 
with the stipulation that his followers were not to bring their arms 
into the camp. The promise was persistently broken ; finally, at the 
head of his armed warriors, Ngalyema was suddenly confronted by 
Stanley's rifle, and fell at his feet, in abject panic, to be soothed, 
petted, and brought into a healthy state of mind. * I am bound to 
teach this intractable "brother" of mine,' is the comment in the 
diary. 

Again and again he makes trouble ; and, always, he is met by the 
same firm, gentle hand. Slowly he improves, and at last is allowed 
once more to make 'blood-brotherhood,' with crossing of arms, 
incisions, and solemn pronouncement by the great fetish-man of the 
tribe, in token of renewed fraternity and fidelity. Ngalyema might 
fairly be pronounced a reformed character, and the friendship 
between him and Stanley became life-long. 

Some of you may, perhaps, wonder at the quiet inoffensive- 
ness of the natives, who, on a former expedition, had worried 
my soul by their ferocity and wanton attacks, night and day ; 
but a very simple explanation of it may be found in Living- 
stone's Last Journals, dated 28th October, 1870. He says: 
' Muini Mukata, who has travelled further than most Arabs, 
said to me, "If a man goes with a good-natured, civil tongue, 
he may pass through the worst people in Africa unharmed." 
This is true, but time also is required; one must not run 
through a country, but give the people time to become ac- 
quainted with you, and let their worst fears subside.' 

Now, on the expedition across Africa I had no time to give, 
either to myself or to them. The river bore my heavy canoes 
downward ; my goods would never have endured the dawdling 
required by this system of teaching every tribe I met who I 
was. To save myself and my men from certain starvation, I 
had to rush on and on, right through. But on this expedition, 
the very necessity of making roads to haul my enormous six- 
ton wagons gave time for my reputation to travel ahead of me. 
My name, purpose, and liberal rewards for native help, nat- 



FOUNDING THE CONGO STATE 343 

urally exaggerated, prepared a welcome for me, and trans- 
formed my enemies of the old time into workmen, friendly 
allies, strong porters, and firm friends. I was greatly for- 
bearing also ; but, when a fight was inevitable, through open 
violence, it was sharp and decisive. Consequently, the natives 
rapidly learned that though everything was to be gained by 
friendship with me, wars brought nothing but ruin. 

So it was that he went among these fierce savages as a messenger 
of good tidings, and they welcomed him. He put his superiority over 
them to use in making bridges across the gulf between their minds 
and his. He studied not only their languages, but their ceremonials, 
and adapted himself to their forms of justice and ways of settling 
disputes, as in the rite of blood-brotherhood. He brought them not 
only personal good-will and kind treatment, but the practical ad- 
vantages of civilisation. 

Everywhere he found eagerness to trade, and the possibility of 
commercial interchange that should be profitable to both sides. 
Many of them accepted training in labour, and recruited his road- 
making force. In his treaties with the chiefs, he did not hesitate to 
purchase full political sovereignty, usually in exchange for goods; 
for such sovereignty was worthless or harmful to these tribes, com- 
pared with the beneficent rule of a superior intelligence. But neither 
in the formal treaties, nor in the actual practice, was there the least 
trace of spoliation of land and goods which was practised later, when 
Stanley had left the Congo. 'It is agreed,' says one of his typical 
treaties, 'that the term "cession of territory" does not mean the 
purchase of the soil by the Association, but the purchase of the 
suzerainty by the Association.' 

Stanley's whole treatment of the natives was as simple in Its prin- 
ciple as the Golden Rule ; it was applied with infinite skill and pa- 
tience; and in a spirit of heartiest human good-will, dashed, often, 
with boyish humour that went home to the savage heart. He tells 
with gusto of the welcome given to frolicking races, and the gam- 
bols indulged in by his good Danish follower, Albert : — 

The dark faces light up with friendly gleams, and a budding 
of good-will may perhaps date from this trivial scene. To such 
an impressionable being as an African native, the self-involved 
European, with his frigid, imperious manner, pallid white face, 
and dead, lustreless eyes, is a sealed book. 

The most tragic pages in the history relate his coming upon a 
series of villages just ravaged by a ferocious slave-raid of the Arabs, 
and afterwards finding a herd of the wretched captives chained and 
guarded. It is a terrible picture. Over a hundred villages had been 



344 HENRY M. STANLEY 

devastated, and the five thousand carried away as slaves stood for six 
times as many slain, or dying by the way-side.' The hot impulse 
rose to strike a blow for their liberation; but it would have been 
hopeless and useless. On his return journey, Stanley borrowed from 
the slave-traders several of their number as his companions down 
the river, to give them an object-lesson as to the impending check 
on their excursions. To extirpate this slave-trade was among the 
prime objects of his enterprise, and whatever else failed, this suc- 
ceeded. 

The furthest point he then reached was Stanley Falls, where he 
planted his station in charge of a solitary white man, the plucky little 
Scotch engineer, Binnie. Stanley, on his return down the river, re- 
flects on the influences he has planted to extend his work. 

We had sown seeds of good-will at every place we had 
touched, and each tribe would spread diffusively the report 
of the value and beauty of our labours. Pure benevolence 
contains within itself grateful virtues. Over natural people 
nothing has greater charm or such expansible power; its in- 
fluence grows without effort ; its subtlety exercises itself on all 
who come within hearing of it. Coming in such innocent 
guise, it offends not ; there is nought in it to provoke resent- 
ment. Provided patience and good temper guides the chief 
of Stanley Falls station, by the period of the return of the 
steamers, the influence of the seedling just planted there will 
have been extended from tribe to tribe far inland, and amid 
the persecuted fugitives from the slave-traders. 

Among the brightest pages of the story are the occasional returns 
to some station where a faithful and efficient subordinate, left in 
charge, has made the wilderness to blossom as a rose. Such is the 
picture of Equatorville, to which he returned, after a hundred days' 
absence, to find that the good-will and zeal of two young Army 
lieutenants had transformed the station from a jungle of waterless 
scrub ; had built and furnished a commodious, tasteful, 'hotel ' ; had 
drawn up a code of laws for the moral government of the station, 
and the amelioration of the wild Bakuti ; and planned sanitary im- 
provements worthy of a competent Board of Public Works. 

• The Rt. Hon. Joseph Chamberlain, presiding at a banquet, in connection with 
the London School of Tropical Medicine, on May ii, 1905, said: ' Compare the 
total number killed in the whole series of our expeditions and campaigns in Africa, 
and you will find they do not approach a fraction of the native population destroyed 
every year before our advent. My friend, Sir Henry M. Stanley, once told me that, at 
the time of his early expeditions, he estimated that more than a million natives were 
slain every year in the Continent of Africa, in inter-tribal warfare and slave-raiding. 
Where the British flag is planted, there must be British peace ; and barbarous methods 
must be abolished, and law and order substituted for anarchy.' 



FOUNDING THE CONGO STATE 345 

But too frequent is the opposite story ; the subordinates' indolence, 
neglect, perhaps desertion ; and the decadence of the station. The 
painful element in the story, and ominous of future consequences, 
is the failures among the men sent out from Europe as his assist- 
ants. There were many and honourable exceptions, and these he 
praises warmly in the book.^ Such were the Scotch engineer, 
Binnie, who so stoutly held his solitary post at Stanley Falls; the 
efficient and fine-spirited Danish sailor, Albert Christopherson ; the 
Scandinavian seaman. Captain Anderson, with his genius for inspir- 
ing everyone near him to work; the Englishman, A. B. Swinburne, 
with a genius for gardening and home-making, and for winning 
the afifection of both whites and blacks; the Italian mechanician, 
Franfois Flamini, who charmed the steam-engines into docility. 
But the book tells often of the. failures, and the private note-books 
detail the story more plainly, and tell, too, something of his difficul- 
ties with his native helpers. 

All the officers, before I sent them to their posts, were in- 
structed by me, orally and in writing, in the very minutiae of 
their duties, especially in the mode of conduct to be adopted 
towards the natives. 

The ridiculous inadequacy of our force as opposed to the 
native population required that each officer should be more 
prudent than brave, more tactful than zealous. Such conduct 
invariably made the native pleasantly disposed to us. If some 
characters among them presumed to think that forbearance 
sprang from cowardice, and were inclined to be aggressive, 
the same prudence which they had practised previously would 
teach them how to deal with such. 

It was mainly impressed on the officers that they were to 
hold their posts more by wit than by force, for the latter was 
out of the question, except after forethought, and in combi- 
nation with headquarters. This was due to the fact that the 
young officers were as ignorant of diplomacy as children. Their 
instincts were to be disciplinary and dictatorial. The cutting 
tone of command is offensive to savages, and terrifying to 
them as individuals. 

Captain D. exceeded his instructions in assuming the re- 
sponsibility of provoking the Arabs at Stanley Falls. He 
studied only his own fighting instincts, and British resent- 
ment against the slaver. At an early period he was too brusque ; 

* The Congo, and the Founding of its Free State. 



346 HENRY M. STANLEY 

this repelled confidence and roused resentment. While he 
was expected to represent civil law of the most paternal char- 
acter, he regarded the thirty Houssas soldiers under his com- 
mand as qualifying him for the role of a military dictator; 
and as soon as he appeared in that character, the Arabs be- 
came unanimous in asserting their independence. Before a 
man with thirty soldiers can adopt such a tone, he surely 
ought to have been prepared for the consequences. But he 
seems to have done nothing except challenge the Arabs. He 
knew he had so many rounds of ammunition, but his ammu- 
.nition was damp, and he was not aware of it.^ 

I know that many of my Officers were inclined to regard me 
as ' hard.' I may now and then have deserved that character, 
but then it was only when nought but hardness availed. When 
I meet chronic stupidity, laziness, and utter indifference to 
duty, expostulation ceases, and coercion or hardness begins. 

His associates had been the principal cause of the exhibition of 
this quality, and with some of them he had been very unfortunate. 

To describe Bracconier's case, for example, would fill a 
good-sized book. Others were equally impenetrable to reason 
and persuasion. 

Intuitively, I felt that Braconnier, though polite and agree- 

^ This note, from Stanley's pocket-book, refers to an ofl&cer in charge of the station 
of Stanley Falls. One of the concubines of an Arab chief fled for protection to Captain 
D., having been beaten by her master. The Arab demanded in civil terms that the 
woman be returned. Captain D. declared that the woman had sought his protection, 
and she should remain at his station. The chief insisted, Captain D. resisted. The Arab 
threatened, Captain D. scoffed at him, and dared him to do his worst. The Arabs 
thereupon came down, and shot everyone, with the exception of Captain D. and one or 
two others, who escaped in a terrible plight. The station was burnt, and everything 
utterly destroyed. 

When I asked Stanley what he would have done, whether he would have returned the 
poor, beaten slave-wife to her cruel owner, Stanley replied, ' Certainly, rather than have 
my station wrecked, and the lives entrusted to me sacrificed ; but it would never have 
come to that. I should have received the Arab with deference and much ceremony, and, 
after refreshment and compliments, I should have attempted some compromise, such as 
by offering to buy the woman for cloth and beads ; or else I should have returned her, on 
receiving solemn assurance that she would be mercifully treated. I should explain that 
I was not free, that if I handed the woman back after she had sought my protection, my 
chief, hearing of it, would cut off my head, but I would give money for her. The Arab 
would have understood this kind of talk ; he would have treated with me, all would have 
gone well, and we should have parted the best of friends. It is necessary to use your wit, 
and never to lose sight of the consequence of your acts.' — D. S. 



FOUNDING THE CONGO STATE 347 

able, was not to be entrusted with any practical work. His 
education and character had utterly unfitted him for work of 
any kind. He was asked to superintend a little road-making. 
He sought a nice, shady place, and fell asleep ; and his men, 
of course, while they admired him for his easy disposition, did 
what was most agreeable to them, and dawdled over their work, 
by which we lost two days. When myself incapacitated by 
a sudden stroke of fever, I requested him to supervise the 
descent of the boiler-wagon down a hill ; not ten minutes later 
the boiler and wagon were smashed, and he was brought to 
me, half-dead from his injuries! He was appointed chief of 
Leopoldville, but, in four months, the place resembled a ruin. 
Grass encroached everywhere, the houses were falling to 
pieces, the gardens choked with weeds, the steamers were 
lying corroding in the port, the natives were estranged, and 
he and his men were reduced to a state of siege. 

He allowed a young Austrian lieutenant and six Zanzibaris 
to enter a small unsuitable canoe and attempt to ascend the 
Congo. Within fifteen minutes of their departure, they were 
all drowned ! 

There is always another side to these accusations, and those 
inclined to believe Bracconier's ridiculous charge of my 
'hardness' should try, first, how they would like to endure 
three years of indolence and incapacity, before they finally 
dismissed the fellow; let those who criticised me ascertain 
whether this man distinguished himself in other fields and 
other missions; though I have no doubt that in a Brussels 
drawing-room he would be found to be an agreeable com- 
panion; but not in Africa, where work has to be done, and 
progress made. 

Then, as regards the coloured people, good as the majority 
of Zanzibaris were, some of them were indescribably, and for 
me most unfortunately, dense. One man, who from his per- 
sonal appearance might have been judged to be among the 
most intelligent, was, after thirty months' experience with his 
musket, unable to understand how it was to be loaded ! He 
never could remember whether he ought to drop the powder, 
or the bullet, into the musket first ! Another time he was sent 
with a man to transport a company of men over a river to 
camp. After waiting an hour, I strode to the bank of the 



348 HENRY M. STANLEY 

river and found them paddling in opposite directions, each 
blaming the other for his stupidity, and, being in a passion 
of excitement, unable to hear the advice of the men across 
the river, who were bawling out to them how to manage their 
canoe. 

Another man was so ludicrously stupid that he generally 
was saved from punishment because his mistakes were so 
absurd. We were one day floating down the Congo, and, it 
being near camping time, I bade him, as he happened to be 
bowman on the occasion, to stand by and seize the grass on 
the bank to arrest the boat, when I should call out. In a little 
while we came to a fit place, and I cried, ' Hold hard, Kirango ! ' 
— ' Please God, Master,' he replied, and forthwith sprang on 
shore and seized the grass with both hands, while we, of 
course, were rapidly swept down-river, leaving him alone and 
solitary on the bank ! The boat's crew roared at the ridiculous 
sight; but, nevertheless, his stupidity cost the tired men a 
hard pull to ascend again, for not every place was available 
for a camp. He it was, also, who, on an occasion when we 
required the branch of a species of arbutus which overhung 
the river to be cut away, to allow the canoes to be brought 
nearer to the bank for safety, actually went astride of the 
branch, and chopped away until he fell into the water with 
the branch, and lost our axe. He had seated himself on the 
outer end of the branch ! 

The coloured men accepted the reproaches they deserved 
with such good-nature that, however stupid they were, I 
could not help forgiving and forgetting. But it was not so 
with the officers. Their amour-propre was so much offended 
that, if I ventured on a rebuke, it was remembered with so 
much bitterness, that an officer who was continually erring 
was also constantly in a resentful mood. I could not discharge 
a man for a blunder, or even a few blunders ; but, if disobeying 
and making unfortunate mistakes was his chronic state, and 
he always resented instruction, it can easily be imagined that 
life with such a one was not pleasant. There were periods 
when careless acts resulted fatally to others ; or when great 
vexation, or pecuniary loss, went on for months consecutively ; 
until I really became afraid to ask any officer to undertake 
any duty. 




HENRY M. STANLEY, 1 885 



FOUNDING THE CONGO STATE 349 

Who would suppose that out of five intelligent Belgian 
officers bidding a sixth hon voyage not one could perceive 
by the size of the canoe, the number of people in it, and the 
manner the departing friend was standing in the little cockle- 
shell, that the voyage must end disastrously ? and yet not 
one had the least suspicion that the young man was going 
to his doom, and about to take six fellows with him ! Who 
would have imagined that those five horror-struck gentlemen 
would have permitted two of their companions to venture 
upon attempting the same hazardous voyage the very next 
day? And yet they did, without so much as a protest; and, 
though the two unhappy voyagers saved their lives by spring- 
ing on shore, their boat and all their effects were swept over 
a cataract. 

Not long after, another of these officers, who belonged to a 
boat-club on a Belgian river, thought he would establish one 
of his own on the Upper Congo. As a first step he purchased an 
elegant canoe, paying heavily for it. He attached a keel-piece 
to it, made a mast and a sail, and one day he went sailing 
smoothly towards the middle of the river where it was four 
miles wide. Presently, having got beyond view of his station, 
the wind died away, and he was carried down by the mighty 
flood. He began to cry out for aid, as he had forgotten his 
paddles ; but his cries could not be heard, he was alone on the 
wide waters! Towards midnight, his men, getting anxious, 
set out in search of him, and, after many hours, found him 
nearly distracted with terror, and brought him to camp, vow- 
ing he would never again trust himself alone on the Congo ! 

A short time after this, another officer and a French mis- 
sionary were devoured by cannibals, with eleven Zanzibaris 
who accompanied them. The details of the story went to 
prove that, in this case again, the military officer proved his 
inaptitude to learn, though in other ways the young man was 
exemplary. Still, the disposition to blunder seemed so pre- 
valent that he who was responsible for the good management 
of their affairs might well be pardoned, if, in his anxiety for 
the welfare of those under him, he should exact obedience in 
a more peremptory tone than formerly. 

Another officer had his station burned twite, with all the 
property stored in it. He was relieved of his charge, and ap- 



350 HENRY M. STANLEY 

pointed to an honourable mission ; but, after setting out, he 
suddenly decided to abandon his people ; leaving them to find 
their own way, whilst he slipped off to the coast, 'to buy a 
pair of boots,' as he said. No one could have appeared more 
astonished than he was when, after the third glaring offence, 
he was told that he was no longer needed. 

Another officer was supplied with a small company of choice 
men, and I instructed him to build a station with a friendly 
tribe, which had desired it for the opening of trade. Within 
a few days he began shooting promiscuously at the natives 
with a revolver; and, on one of his men expostulating with 
him, he turned the weapon upon his faithful servant and shot 
him in the head ; upon which, the remainder of the men flung 
themselves upon him, and, having disarmed him, carried him, 
bound hand and foot, to me. The officer was escorted to the 
coast ; I charged him with being a dangerous lunatic, though 
no one would have supposed, from his appearance and lan- 
guage, that he was thus afflicted. 

I could go on with pages of these extraordinary misadven- 
tures, all of which I had to endure with some of the officers 
who were sent out to me. I but cite these few instances, taken 
at random, to prove that there is another view to be taken 
when the responsible head of an expedition, or enterprise of 
this kind, is charged with being 'hard.' One is not likely to 
be hard with persons who perform their duties ; but it is diffi- 
cult to be mild, or amiable, with people who are absolutely 
incapable, and who will not listen to admonition without 
bristling with resentment. 

The only power I possessed with officers of this kind was 
that of dismissal, which I forbore to use too frequently be- 
cause, in doing so, I punished the Association. It was only in 
extreme cases that the power was exercised. In Europe, of 
course, there would be no necessity for many words or sore 
feelings ; but in Africa, I could not lose eighty pounds for a 
solitary evidence of incapacity. I practised forbearance, I 
tried to instruct, to expostulate, to admonish, — once, twice, 
thrice; I made every effort to teach and train; but, at last, 
when nothing availed, I was forced to have recourse to dis- 
missal. Being of an open temper and frank disposition, and 
always willing to hear what my officers or men had to say, 



FOUNDING THE CONGO STATE 351 

though as a leader of men I could not hob-nob with my officers, 
they ought to have found no difficulty in understanding me. 
The black man certainly was never at a loss to do so. 

No man is free from imperfections ; but when one is genially 
disposed, and evinces good-will, a man who fastens upon one 
imperfection, and constantly harps upon that, shows his own 
narrow-mindedness and incapacity. 

I have had no friend on any expedition, no one who could 
possibly be my companion, on an equal footing, except while 
with Livingstone. 

How could any young men, fresh from their school-rooms, 
look with my eyes upon any person or thing within notice? 
A mathematician might as well expect sympathy from an 
infant busy at the alphabet, as the much-travelled may expect 
to find responsive feelings in youths fresh from home or 
college. How can he who has witnessed many wars hope to 
be understood by one whose most shocking sight has been a 
nose-bleed ? 

I was still in that fierce period of life when a man feels him- 
self sufficient for himself, when he abounds in self-confidence, 
glories in a blazing defiance of danger and obstacles, is most 
proud and masterful, and least disposed to be angelic. 

It is strange that no novelist, to my knowledge, has alluded 
to this strong virility of purpose which, at a certain stage, is 
all-powerful in men's characters. 

Though altogether solitary, I was never less conscious of 
solitude; though as liable to be prostrated by fever as the 
youngest, I was never more indifferent to its sharpest attacks, 
or less concerned for its results. My only comfort was my 
work. To it I ever turned as to a friend. It occupied my days, 
and I dwelt fondly on it at night. I rose in the morning, wel- 
coming the dawn, only because it assisted me to my labour ; 
and only those who regarded it from a similar temperament 
could I consider as my friends. Though this may be poorly 
expressed, neverthless, those who can comprehend what I 
mean will understand the main grounds. 

The founding of the Congo Free State was the greatest single 
enterprise of Stanley's life. Perhaps nothing else so called out and 
displayed his essential qualities. Its ultimate fruit cannot be so 
clearly measured as the search for Livingstone, or the first explora- 



352 HENRY M. STANLEY 

tion of the Congo. Of those enterprises he was himself the Alpha 
and the Omega; each was a task for a single man, and the achieve- 
ment was measured by the man's personality. But the founding of 
the Free State was a multiple task, involving a host of workers. He 
had not made the selection of his helpers, except the rank and file, 
and the rank and file did not fail him. It was his lieutenants, 
selected by others, among whom the perilous defect was found. 
Further, his undertaking, in its essential nature, involved dangers 
which it was doubtless well he did not wholly foresee, for they 
might have daunted even his spirit. 

He broke down the wall between a savage and a civilised people, 
and the tides rushed together, as at the piercing of Suez. On either 
side were both lifting and lowering forces. The faults and weakness 
of the savage were plain to see ; his merit and his promise not so easy 
of discernment. But the 'civilised ' influences, too, were extremely 
mixed. There was the infectious energy of the able trader, and his 
material contributions ; there were the distinctly missionary workers ; 
and there were sentiments of humanity and justice, often obscured 
or perplexed, but, when educated, powerful to compel Governments 
to ways of righteousness. With these higher powers mingled blind 
and selfish lust of gain ; the degeneracy of philanthropy in its part- 
nership with profit ; the selfish feuds of race and nationality, each 
for itself, alone ; lastly, the easy, deadly contempt of the white man 
for the ' nigger.' To cast a prosperous horoscope for the evolution 
of the African race, one must hold strongly to the higher power we 
call Providence. 

The instrument of that power was the man who brought Europe 
and America into touch with Darkest Africa. His example and his 
ideal shine like a star above the continent he opened to the world's 
knowledge. When the observant savages watched him, as the rough 
ground of Vivi was subdued ; when, later, they saw him, as the fifty- 
mile roadway was bridging the hills and chasms, and with drill and 
hammer he taught and led his followers, they gave him the name 
BuLA Matari, ' Breaker of Rocks.' By hit, or by wit, they struck 
his central quality — concentrated energy, victoriously battling 
with the hardest that earth could offer, all to make earth goodly and 
accessible to man. A Maker of Roads, a Breaker of Rocks, was he 
all his life long — Bula Matari I 



CHAPTER XVII 
THE RESCUE OF EM IN 

PART I. THE RELIEF 

MY fifth expedition was due to the overwhelming catas- 
trophe which occurred at Khartoum, on January 26th, 
1885. On that date the heroic defender of the city, 
General Charles George Gordon, of Chinese and African 
fame, and his Egyptian garrison were massacred, the popu- 
lation reduced to slavery, and all the vast Soudan submerged 
by barbarism. The only Egyptian force in the Soudan which 
escaped from the disaster was that which, led by Emin Pasha, 
had sought refuge among the savage tribes in the neighbour- 
hood of Wadelai on the left bank of the Nile, about 25° north 
of the Albert Nyanza. Fearing that he would be unable to 
offer continued resistance, Emin began writing letters to the 
Egyptian Government, Mr. Mackay, the Missionary, the Anti- 
slavery Society, and Sir John Kirk, imploring assistance be- 
fore he should be overwhelmed. Through the influence of 
Sir William Mackinnon, a relief-fund was collected in this 
country, Egypt promised an equal sum, and the Emin Relief 
Expedition was the consequence. When men hear a person 
crying out for help, few stay to ascertain whether he merits 
it; but they forthwith proceed to render what assistance is 
needed. It was rather harrowing to read, day by day, in the 
British Press that one of Gordon's officers, at the head of a 
little army, was in danger of perishing and sharing the remorse- 
less fate which had overtaken the self-sacrificing chief and his 
garrison at Khartoum. It is to Dr. R. W. Felkin, of Edin- 
burgh, who, as a casual traveller, had enjoyed Emin's hospi- 
tality between July and September, 1879, that I am indebted 
for that beautiful and inspiring picture of a Governor at bay 
in the far Soudan, defying the victorious Mahdists, and fight- 
ing bravely, inch by inch, for the land which he had been 
appointed to rule by General Gordon. 



354 HENRY M. STANLEY 

This Governor was described by him as a tall, military 
figure, of severe aspect, of rigid morals, inflexible will, scien- 
tific attainments — and his name was Emin. The picture 
became impressed on our Imaginations. 

The 'Mackinnon Clan,' as we fondly termed Sir William 
Macklnnon and his personal friends, were among the foremost 
to come forward. They offered to give ten thousand pounds 
If the Egyptian Government would advance a similar amount. 
The proposal received Egypt's prompt assent, and as the 
British Press and people strongly sympathised with the move- 
ment, the Government, also, cordially favoured It. 

My old friend Sir William had asked me, before he had 
appealed to his friends, if, in the event of a fund being raised, 
I would lead the expedition. I replied that I would do so 
gratuitously; or, if the Relief Committee preferred another 
leader, as was very probable, I would put my name down for 
Five hundred pounds. Without waiting the Issue of his appeal 
to his friends, I sailed for America to commence a lectur- 
Ing-tour. Thirteen days after my arrival in America, I was 
recalled by cable; and on Christmas Eve, 1886, I was back 
in England. 

Forthwith came appeals to me from the brave and adven- 
turous and young, that I would be pleased to associate them 
with me in the enterprise of relief. They vowed strictest 
fidelity, obedience to any terms, and utmost devotion ; and 
from among the host of applicants. Major Barttelot, of the 
7th Fusiliers, Mr. Jameson, a rich young civlhan. Lieutenant 
Stairs, of the Royal Engineers, Captain Nelson, of Methuen's 
Horse, Surgeon Parke, of the Army Medical Department, Mr. 
Jephson, Mr. Herbert Ward, and two or three others, were 
enrolled as members of the expedition to relieve Emin Pasha, 
Governor of Equatoria. Had our means only been equal to 
our opportunities, we might have emptied the barracks, the 
colleges, the public schools, — I might almost say the nurs- 
eries, — so great was the number of applications to join in 
the adventurous quest ! 

The route resolved upon was that from Zanzibar westward, 
via the south end of Lake Victoria, through Karagwe and 
Ankori and South-west Unyoro, to Lake Albert; but, about 
thirteen days before we sailed, the King of the Belgians, 



THE RESCUE OF EMIN 355 

through his generous offers of assistance, induced us to change 
our plans. The advantages of the Congo route were about 
five hundred miles shorter land-journey, and less opportuni- 
ties for desertion of the porters, who are quite unable to with- 
stand the temptation of deserting. It also quieted the fears 
of the French and Germans that, behind this professedly 
humanitarian quest, we might have annexation projects. 

A native force was recruited in Zanzibar, and the expedition 
travelled by sea to the mouth of the Congo, and went up the 
river, arriving March 21, 1887, at Stanley Pool. As far as that 
everything prospered. We had started from England with the 
good wishes of all concerned ; and even the French Press, with 
one accord, were, for once, cordial and wished us hon voyage. 
But, on reaching the Pool, the steam flotilla was found to be 
only capable of carrying four-fifths of the expedition. 

Fourteen hundred miles from the Atlantic, we reached the 
limit of Congo navigation, and found camp at Yambuya, a 
large village, situated on the edge of an unknown territory 
which extended as far as the Albert Nyanza. A steamer was 
at once sent down-river to bring the remainder of the force 
and stores left behind. 

It should be remembered, that the last news from Emin 
was an urgent appeal for help. The last solemn injunction to 
us was to hurry forward, lest we be too late. Hitherto, we had 
been dependent on the fortunes of the sea, the skill of ship 
captains, and safe navigation by ocean and river. German 
and French jealousies had been dissipated ; between our pro- 
fessional deserters and their island, Zanzibar, was half a con- 
tinent, and much of it unknown. Now was the time, if ever, 
to prove that our zeal had not cooled. Six weeks, probably 
two months, would pass before the entire force could be col- 
lected at Yambuya. If Emin was in such desperate straits as he 
had described, his total ruin might be efi^ected in that time, 
and the disaster would be attributed to that delay — just as 
Gordon's death had been attributed to Sir Charles Wilson's 
delay at Metemmeh. To avoid that charge, I had no option 
but to form an Advance Column, whose duty would be to 
represent the steady progress of the expedition towards its 
goal, while a second Column, under five experienced officers, 
would convey after us, a few weeks later, the reserve stores 



356 HENRY M. STANLEY 

and baggage. If Tippu-Tib was faithful to his promise to 
supply the second Column with six hundred carriers, the work 
of the reserve Column would be comparatively easy. If the 
Arab chief was faithless, then the officers were to do the best 
they could with their own men ; to follow after me, in that 
case, was obviously their best course. 

On the thirteenth day after arrival at Yambuya, the ad- 
vance, consisting of five Europeans and three hundred and 
eighty-four natives, entered the great Equatorial Forest. The 
unknown country which lay between Yambuya and the 
Albert Nyanza, on whose shores we hoped to meet the 'be- 
leaguered' Governor, was five hundred and forty geographical 
miles in length, by about three hundred and thirty in width. 
We were absolutely ignorant of the character of any portion 
embraced within this area. The advance force was divided 
into four Companies, commanded by Stairs, Nelson, Jephson, 
and Parke. The pioneers consisted of select men who were 
to use the bill-hook, cutlass, and axe, for clearing a passage 
through the entangling underwood, without which it would 
have been impossible to advance at all. They had also to 
resist attack from the front, to scout, to search for fords, or 
to bridge the deeper creeks. 

The daily routine began about six o'clock. After roll-calls, 
the pioneers filed out, followed, after a little headway had 
been gained, by each Company in succession. At this hour the 
Forest would be buried in a cheerless twilight, the morning 
mist making every tree shadowy and indistinct. After hack- 
ing, hewing, and tunnelling, and creeping slowly for five hours, 
we would halt for refreshment. At one o'clock, the journey 
would be resumed; and about four, we would prepare our 
camp for the night. 

Soon after sunset the thick darkness would cover the limit- 
less world of trees around ; but, within our circle of green huts 
and sheds, a cheery light would shine from a hundred camp- 
fires. By nine o'clock the men, overcome by fatigue, would 
be asleep ; silence ensued, broken only by sputtering fire-logs, 
flights of night-jars, hoarse notes from great bats, croakings 
of frogs, cricket-cheeps, falling of trees or branches, a shriek 
from some prowling chimpanzee, a howl from a peevish 
monkey, and the continual gasping cry of the lemur. But dur- 



THE RESCUE OF EMIN 357 

ing many nights, we would sit shivering under ceaseless tor- 
rents of rain, watching the forky flames of the lightning, and 
listening to the stunning and repeated roars of the thunder- 
cannonade, as it rolled through the woody vaults. 

During the first month not a man fell away from his duty ; 
the behaviour of both officers and men was noble and faultless. 
Regularly as clock-work, each morning they took to the road, 
and paced as fast as the entanglements and obstacles of under- 
A^ood, swamp, and oozy creeks allowed. Each day the Forest 
presented the same unbroken continuity of patriarchal woods, 
:he same ghostly twilight at morning, the same dismal shade 
at noon. Foliage, from forty to a hundred feet thick, above us, 
a chaos of undergrowth around us, soft black humus, and 
dark soil, rich as compost, under our feet. 

At intervals of ten, fifteen, or twenty miles, we came across 
small clearings, but their wild owners had fled, or stood skulk- 
ing on our flanks unseen. As no possible chance of intercourse 
was offered to us, we helped ourselves to their manioc, plucked 
the bananas, and passed on. 

At the end of the first month, there came a change. Our 
men had gradually lost their splendid courage. The hard work 
and scanty fare were exhausting. The absence of sunshine, 
and other gloomy environments, were morally depressing. 
Physically and morally, they had deteriorated ; and a long 
rest was imperatively needed. But we could find no settle- 
ment that could assure the necessary provisions. Now that 
the blood was impoverished, too, the smallest abrasion from 
a thorn, a puncture from a mosquito, or a skewer in the path, 
developed rapidly into a devouring ulcer. The sick-list grew 
alarmingly large, and our boats and canoes were crowded 
with sufferers. 

We, finally, entered upon a region that had been dispeopled 
and cruelly wasted by the Manyuema raiders, and it became 
a matter of life and death to get quickly through and beyond 
it. But, already famished and outworn, in body and spirit, 
by past struggles, our men were unable, and too dejected, to 
travel rapidly; and the tedious lagging involved still more 
penalties. Had they known how comparatively short was the 
distance that lay between them and supplies, they no doubt 
would have made heroic efforts to push on. 



358 HENRY M. STANLEY 

Then starvation commenced to claim its victims, and to 
strew the track with the dying and dead ; and this quailed the 
stoutest hearts. 

Ever before us rose the same solemn and foodless Forest the 
same jungle to impede and thwart our progress with ooze, 
frequently a cubit deep, the soil often as treacherous as ice to 
the barefooted carrier, creek-beds strewn with sharp-edged 
oyster-shells, streams choked with snags, chilling mist and icy 
rain, thunder-clatter and sleepless nights, and a score of other 
horrors. To add to our desperate state, several of our follow- 
ers who had not sickened, lost heart, became mad with hun- 
ger and wild forebodings, tossed the baggage into the bush, 
and fled from us, as from a pest. 

Although, when on the verge of hopelessness, our scouts 
would sometimes discover a plantation, whereat we could 
obtain a supply of plantains, past affliction taught them no 
prudence. They devoured their food without a thought of the 
want of the next day ; and, in a few hours, the slow agony of 
hunger would be renewed. 

Even the white man does not endure hunger patiently. It 
is a thing he never forgives. The loss of one meal obliterates 
the memories of a hundred feasts. When hunger begins to 
gnaw at his stomach, the nature of the animal comes out, as 
a tortoise-head, projected from the shell, discloses the ani- 
mal within. Despite education and breeding, the white man 
is seldom more than twenty-four hours ahead of his black 
brother, and barely one hundred hours in advance of the 
cannibal; and ten thousand years hence he will be just the 
same. He will never be so civilised as to be independent of his 
stomach ; so it must be understood that we also exhibited our 
weakness during that trying period ; but, supported by little 
trifles of food, more prudent in economizing it, subjected to 
less physical strain, we forced ourselves to preserve the aus- 
terity and dignity of superiors. 

On the hundred and thirty-seventh day from Yambuya we 
reached the first native settlement that had been untouched 
by the accursed raiders to whom we owed our miseries. It 
abounded with Indian corn, beans, vegetables, bananas, and 
plantains, upon which the famished survivors flung them- 
selves, regardless of consequences. Our prolonged fast was at 



THE RESCUE OF EMIN 359 

an end, but during the last seventy days of it I had lost one 
hundred and eighty men, through death and desertion. The 
place was called Ibwiri, since known as Fort Bodo; as our 
sufferings had been so intense, we halted here, and feasted 
for thirteen days. 

The recuperation was rapid, strength had returned during 
the feasting, and there rose a general demand that we should 
continue the journey, in order that we might delight our eyes 
by the grass-land of which we now began to hear the first 
rumours. On the twelfth day after quitting Ibwiri, we 
emerged from the sombre twilight of the Forest into the 
unclouded light of a tropic sky. A feeling of exultation imme- 
diately possessed me, as if I had been released from Purgatory, 
to disport myself in the meads of Heaven. The very air was 
greedily sniffed. 

The first smell of it that came to my open nostrils seemed 
as if, in the direction of the wind, there somewhere lay a great 
dairy and cattle-pen ; and, almost at once, I sighted startled 
game, in close consult on the knolls and mounds, stamping 
and snorting in the first energy of alarm. The first view of the 
green rolling plain was as of a grassy Eden, which had been 
newly fashioned with a beautiful shapeliness, with a new sun, 
and a brand-new sky of intense blue. It transfigured every 
face in an instant, and the homeliest features were lit up by 
sincere emotions of gratitude, as though some dream of bliss 
had been realised. By one impulse we started to run; our 
exhilarated blood seemed foaming champagne, and sent us 
leaping over the soft sward ; and the limbs, which had previ- 
ously strained heavily through the forest thickets, danced as 
freely as those of bounding kids ! 

On the 13th December, one hundred and sixty-nine days 
from Yambuya, the expedition stood on the edge of the grassy 
plateau and looked down upon the Albert Nyanza, whose 
waters, as reported by Emin, were constantly navigated by 
his steamers, the 'Khedive' and 'Nyanza.' 

After sufficiently enjoying the prospect, we commenced Ishe 
steep descent of two thousand seven hundred feet, to the lake, 
and, early next morning, reached the shore which had been 
our goal. On inquiring from the natives as to the whereabouts 
of the 'white man with the smoke-boat,' they declared most 



360 HENRY M. STANLEY 

positively that they had not seen any white man or steamer 
since Colonel Mason's visit, ten years before. 

Our position was a cruel one. The Foreign Office had fur- 
nished me with copies of all Emin's letters, and froin their 
tone, character, and numbers of statements, I had formed, 
what probably every one else had, an opinion of a Military 
Governor, who, with two steamers and steel boats, had been 
in the habit of visiting the various lake ports. 

I asked again and again if a white man had been seen, and I 
received an answer always in the negative. I had left my steel 
boat at Ipoto, because of our depleted numbers. No food 
was obtainable on the alkalised plains bordering the lake. 
The native canoes were only suitable for inshore fishing and 
calm weather ; and there was not a tree visible out of which 
a sizeable canoe could be made ! 

After consulting with the officers, I found that they also 
were surprised at the inexplicable absence of news of Emin, 
and a great many guesses wide of the truth, as it appeared 
later, were made. But no amount of guessing would feed two 
hundred hungry men, stranded on a naked lake shore. I there- 
fore resolved, after three days' halt, to retrace our steps to 
Ibwiri, and there erect a small fort for the protection of the 
ammunition, and as a resting-place for my sick ; after which 
we could return once more to the lake, and, launching my 
boat on its waters, sail in search of the missing Pasha. 

Agreeably to this resolution, I turned my back on the lake on 
the 1 6th December, 1887, and, twenty-one days later, arrived 
at Ibwiri, the site of Fort Bodo. Without loss of time, I com- 
menced building our fort. Meanwhile Lieutenant Stairs was 
sent, with a detachment, to collect the sick at Ipoto, under 
Surgeon Parke and Captain Nelson. On his return, he was 
sent with an escort of twenty carriers, who were to hunt for 
Major Barttelot's Column, which I expected was follow- 
ing us, and to collect all convalescents at Ugarrowas, below 
Ipoto. ^ 

After the construction of the fort, its command was en- 
trusted to Captain Nelson, and, accompanied by Jephson and 
Parke, I departed, a second time, to the Nyanza ; but on this 
occasion I carried my steel boat, in sections. 

^ Mr. Stairs, not finding the Rear-Column, returned with the sick. — D. S. 



THE RESCUE OF EMIN 361 

One day's distance from the lake I heard that there was a 
packet awaiting me at Kavalli, from a white man called by the 
natives ' Malleju,' or the * bearded man,' who, of course,. was 
Emin Pasha. The packet contained a letter addressed to me 
by name, which showed, like the letter of November to Dr. 
Felkin, that he knew all about the objects of the expedition. 
It was dated March 25th, 1888, — it was now April i8th. Na- 
tive rumour, according to Emin's letter, had stated that white 
men were at the south end of the lake, and he had embarked 
on one of his steamers to ascertain if the report were true. It 
was an extraordinary thing, that, after expecting us on the 
15th December, he had required one hundred days to make 
up his mind to visit the south end of the lake ! 

Unless we chose to wait inactively for Emin to pay Kavalli a 
second visit, it was necessary to send the boat in search of him. 
Accordingly, Mr. Jephson, with a picked crew, was charged 
with this mission. 

Towards sunset of the fifth day after his departure, those 
looking northward up the lake discovered a column of smoke. 
It rose from the funnel of the steamer ' Khedive.' At dusk she 
dropped anchor nearly abreast of our camp, and in a few mo- 
ments our whale-boat, steered by Jephson, brought Emin 
Pasha, Captain Casati, and several Egyptian officers ashore. 
As may be imagined, our people were almost beside them- 
selves with delight, because the object of our strenuous quest 
was at last amongst them. 

We agreed to pitch our camps side by side. Emin and his 
guard of Soudanese to the right, and we to the left, on the 
edge of the lake. 

For several days we luxuriated in our well-earned rest and 
good cheer. I was in a state of joyous ebullience ; I acquiesced 
with all suggestions. Few men could have acted the part of 
hospitable and pleasant host so well as Emin. I quite under- 
stood now how Dr. Felkin had appreciated this side of Emin's 
character. He was cordial in manner, well-read, had seen 
much, and appeared to be most likeable. 

Then also my anxieties respecting provisions for the people 
were at an end, for Emin had provided abundance of grain, 
and, as the main object of the expedition was now within view 
of being achieved, my feelings all round were those of unal- 



362 HENRY M. STANLEY 

loved pleasure. Many a time afterwards, I looked back upon 
this period as upon a delightful holiday. 

Until the 25th of May, our respective camps were close 
together ; and we daily met and chatted about various things, 
during which, naturally, the topic as to whether he would stay 
in Equatoria, or accompany me to the coast, came up for dis- 
cussion frequently. But, from the beginning to the end of our 
meetings, I was only conscious that I was profoundly ignorant 
of his intentions. On some days, after a friendly dinner the 
night previous, he held out hopes that he might accompany 
me ; but the day following he would say, * No, if my people go, 
I go ; if they stay, I stay.' For ten days I assented to this ; but 
it became impressed on my mind, that he had a personal ob- 
jection to going to Egypt, from a fear that he might be shelved, 
and his life would become wasted in a Cairene or Stamboul 
coffee-house. The ideal Governor whom I had imagined, had 
been altogether replaced by a man who had other views than 
those of his Government. What those views were, I could 
never gather definitely, for, as has been observed, the impres- 
sion of one day was displaced by that of the next ; and his real 
opinions, upon any topic save an abstract question, were too 
transient to base a conclusion upon. 

Altogether, I spent twenty-five days with Emin. I then 
retraced my steps to Fort Bodo. After carefully provisioning 
one hundred and seven men, and serving out twenty-five days' 
rations to each man, I commenced the search for the Rear- 
Column on the 1 6th June. 

I have often been asked how I dared to face that terrible 
and hungry Forest alone, after such awful experiences. If I 
suggested admonitions of duty and conscience as being suffi- 
cient motives, I seldom failed to notice a furtive shrug. But, 
really, I fail to see what else could have been done. The Rear- 
Column was as much a part of the expedition as the Advance, 
and had there been only twenty blacks, it would have been as 
much my duty to seek them as to find what had become of 
two hundred and sixty Zanzibaris, with five white officers. As 
for sending any of my own officers to perform such an import- 
ant mission, well, there is a saying which I believe in thor- 
oughly, * If you want a thing done, you must do it yourself.* 
Besides these motives, I was too nervously anxious about the 



THE RESCUE OF EMIN 363 

long-absent Column, which had been instructed to follow us, 
and the suspense was intolerable. 

It was also, principally, this nervous anxiety about these 
missing people that drove me through the Great Forest at such 
a rate, that what had taken us one hundred and twenty-nine 
days was now performed in sixty- two days. On August 17, 
1888, the eighty- third day since quitting the Pasha, on Lake 
Albert, I came in view of the village of Banalya, ninety miles 
east of Yambuya. 

Presently,^ white dresses were seen, and quickly taking up 
my field-glass, I discovered a red flag hoisted. A suspicion 
of the truth crept into my mind. A light puff of wind unrolled 
the flag for an instant, and the white crescent and star was 
revealed. I sprang to my feet and cried out, 'The Major, 
boys ! Pull away bravely ! ' A vociferous shouting and hur- 
rahing followed, and every canoe shot forward at racing speed. 

About two hundred yards from the village we stopped pad- 
dling, and as I saw a great number of strangers on the shore, 
I asked, 'Whose men are you?' — 'We are Stanley's men,' 
was the answer, delivered in mainland Swahili. But assured 
by this, and still more so as I recognised a European near the 
gate, we paddled ashore. The European on a nearer view 
turned out to be William Bonny, who had been engaged as 
doctor's assistant to the expedition. 

Pressing his hand, I said, — 

'Well, Bonny, how are you? Where is the Major? Sick, I 
suppose ? ' 

'The Major is dead, sir.' 

' Dead ? Good God ! How dead ? Fever ? ' 

' No, sir, he was shot.' 

' By whom ? ' 

' By the Manyuema — Tippu-Tib's people.' 

' Good heavens ! Well, where is Jameson ? ' 

'At Stanley Falls.' 

' What is he doing there, in the name of goodness ? ' 

'He went to obtain more carriers.*^ 

* Well, where are the others ? ' 

^ Contrary to the rule hitherto observed, the following dramatic story of the discovery 
of the derelict Rear-Column is quoted from the account already published in Darkest 
Africa. — D. S. 



364 HENRY M. STANLEY 

'Gone home Invalided, some months ago.' 

These queries, rapidly put and answered as we stood by the 
gate at the water-side, prepared me to hear as deplorable a 
story as could be rendered of one of the most remarkable 
series of derangements that an organized body of men could 
possibly be plunged into. 

If I were to record all that I saw at Banalya, in its deep 
intensity of unqualified misery, it would be like stripping the 
bandages off a vast sloughing ulcer, striated with bleeding 
arteries, to the public gaze, with no earthly purpose than to 
shock and disgust. 

I put question after question to Bonny, to each of which I 
received only such answers as swelled the long list of misfor- 
tunes he gave me. The Column had met nothing but disaster. 

The bald outline of Mr. Bonny's story was that Tippu-Tib 
had broken faith with me, and that the officers had kept on 
delaying to start after me, as agreed between Barttelot and 
myself. The Arab had fed them continually with false hopes 
of his coming ; finally, after seven visits which Barttelot had 
paid him at Stanley Falls, and in the tenth month, he had 
brought to Yambuya four hundred men and boy carriers, and 
a more undisciplined and cantankerous rabble could not have 
been found in Africa. The Column had then departed, and 
been able to march ninety miles and reach Banalya, when, 
on July 19th, — or twenty-eight days before my arrival, — 
Barttelot left his house at dawn to stop some disorderly 
noises, and, a few minutes later, he was shot through the heart 
by a Manyuema head-man. Thus, on my arrival, Mr. Bonny 
was the only white man remaining. Out of two hundred and 
sixty coloured men who had originally formed the Column, 
only one hundred and two were alive, and forty-two of them 
were even then dying from the effects of eating poisonous 
manioc. 

In a few days, I had re-organised a force of over five hun- 
dred men; and, hastily removing from Banalya, as from a 
pest-house, finished my preparations on an island in the 
Aruwimi, a few miles above. When all was ready, I started 
on my way to Fort Bodo, conveying all these people as best I 
could. The sick folk and the goods, I had carried in canoes, 



THE RESCUE OF EMIN 365 

while the main body marched along my old track, parallel to 
the river, and kept time to the progress of the water-party. 
The people were now familiar with the route, and were no 
longer the funeral procession which had slowly dragged itself 
through the shades of the Forest, the year before. They knew 
that they were homeward-bound, and, fascinated by mem- 
ories of the pastoral plains, and unencumbered with loads, 
they marched in high spirits. 

About a month's march from Fort Bodo, I cast off the ca- 
noes and struck overland by a shorter way. Presently, I 
entered the land inhabited by pigmies. This race of dwarfs 
has dwelt in this section of the country since the remotest 
times, before history. The tallest male discovered by me did 
not exceed four feet, six inches; the average specimen was 
about four feet, two inches, in height, while many a child- 
bearing pigmy- woman did not exceed three feet high. 

In the more easterly parts of the Forest there are several 
tribes of this primeval race of man. They range from the 
Ihuru River to the Awamba forest at the base of Ruwenzori. 
I found two distinct types ; one a very degraded specimen, 
with ferrety eyes, close-set, and an excessive prognathy of 
jaw, more nearly approaching what one might call a cousin 
of the simian than was supposed to be possible, yet thoroughly 
human; the other was a very handsome type, with frank, 
open, innocent countenances, very prepossessing. I had con- 
siderable experience of both.^ They were wonderfully quick 
with their weapons, and wounded to death several of my 
followers. The custom in the forest is to shoot at sight, and 
their craft, quick sight, correct aim, and general expertness, 
added to the fatal character of the poison of their arrows, 
made them no despicable antagonists. The larger natives of 
the Forest, who form the clearings and plant immense groves 
of plantains, purchase their favour by submitting to their 
depredations. 

I have seen some beautiful figures among the little people, 

^ The two different kinds of pigmies thus distinguished were the Batua, inhabiting the 
northern, and the Wambutti, the southern district of the territory traversed by Stanley, 
— the great Equatorial Forest, — which extends south of the Niam-Niam and Mon- 
buttu countries. The correctness of Stanley's views regarding the pigmies has since been 
substantiated by Wolf, Wissman, and others. See Dr. Schlichter's paper, 'The Pigmy 
Tribes of Africa,' Scottish Geographical Magazine, 1892. — D. S. 



366 HENRY M. STANLEY 

as perfect from the knees upward as a sculptor would desire, 
but the lower limbs are almost invariably weak and badly- 
shaped. 

They are quick and intelligent, capable of deep affection 
and gratitude ; and those whom we trained showed remarkable 
industry and patience. One old woman, four feet, two inches 
in height, — possibly the ugliest little mortal that was ever 
in my camp, — exhibited a most wonderful endurance. She 
seemed to be always loaded like a camel, as she followed the 
caravan from camp to camp, and I often had to reduce a load 
that threatened to bury her under her hamper. Cooking-pots, 
stools, porridge-paddles, kettles, bananas, yams, flour, native 
rope, a treasure of ironware, cloth, what-not, everything was 
placed in her hamper, as if her strength was without limit. 
Towards the latter part of her acquaintance, I was able to 
make her smile, but it had been terribly hard work, as she was 
such an inveterate scold. By her action she seemed to say: 
'You may beat me to pulp, you may load me until you smother 
me with your rubbish, you may work my fingers to the bone, 
you may starve me, but, thank Goodness, I can still scold, and 
vscold I will, until I drop !' 

I had a pigmy boy of eighteen, who worked with a zeal that 
I did not think possible to find out of civilisation. Time was 
too precious to him to waste in talk. On the march, he stoutly 
held his place near the van ; and, on reaching camp, he literally 
rushed to collect fuel and make his master's fire. His mind 
seemed ever concentrated on his work. When I once stopped 
him to ask his name, his face seemed to say, 'Please don't 
stop me. I must finish my task' ; and I never heard his voice 
while he was with me, though he was not dumb. 

Another of my pigmy followers was a young woman, of 
whom I could honestly say that she was virtuous and modest, 
though nude. It was of no use for any stalwart young Zan- 
zibar! to be casting lover's eyes at her. She resolved that she 
had duties to perform, and she did them without deigning 
to notice the love-sick swains of our camp. Her master's tea 
or coffee was far too important to be neglected. His tent re- 
quired her vigilant watchfulness, her master's comforts were 
unspeakably precious in her eyes, and the picture of the half- 
naked pigmy-girl, abjuring frivolities, and rendering due 



THE RESCUE OF EMIN 367 

fidelity, and simple devotedness, because it was her nature 
to, will remain long in my mind as one of many pleasantnesses 
to be remembered. 

I have often been asked whether I did not think the pigmies 
to be a degenerate stock of ordinary humanity. In my opinion, 
tribes and nations are subject to the same influences as fami- 
lies. If confined strictly to itself, even a nation must, in time, 
deteriorate. 

Asia and Africa contain several isolated fragments of what 
were once powerful nations, and yet more numerous relics of 
once populous tribes. It is not difilicult to judge of the effect 
on a race of three thousand years' isolation, intermarriage, 
and a precarious diet of fungi, wild fruit, lean fibrous meat 
of animals, and dried insects. The utter absence of sunshine, 
the want of gluten and saccharine bodies in their food, scarcely 
tend to promote increase of stature, or strength of limb ; and, 
as it is said, ' where there is no progress, there must be decay,* 
I suppose that some deterioration must have occurred since 
the existence of the pigmies became known, as the result of 
their ancestors having captured the five Nassamonian ex- 
plorers twenty-six centuries ago, as described by the Father of 
History. On every map since Hekateus's time, 500 years B. c, 
they have been located in the region of the Mountains of the 
Moon. 

On the 20th of December, 1888, we burst out of the Great 
Forest, on the edge of the plantations of Fort Bodo ; and, by 
9 o'clock, the volleys of the rifles woke up the garrison at the 
fort to the fact that, after one hundred and eighty-eight days* 
absence, we had returned. What a difference there was 
between the admirable station, with its model farm-like ap- 
pearance, and Banalya! But there was one mystery yet re- 
maining. The Pasha and Jephson had promised to visit Fort 
Bodo within two months after my departure, say about the 
middle of August ; it was now past the middle of December, 
and nothing had been heard of them. But the cure of all 
doubt, grief, misery, and mystery Is action ; and therefore I 
could not remain passive at Fort Bodo. I allowed myself 
three days' rest only, and then set out for Lake Albert for the 
third time. 

On the 17th of January, 1889, when only one day's march 



368 HENRY M. STANLEY 

from the Albert Lake, a packet of letters was placed in my 
hands. They were from Emin Pasha and Mr. Jephson. There 
was a long account from Jephson, stating that he and the 
Pasha were prisoners to the revolted troops of the province 
since the i8th August, the very day after we had discovered 
the foundered Rear-Column at Banalya ! There were some 
expressions in poor Mr. Jephson's letters which put a very 
relief-less aspect on his case. *If I don't see you again, com- 
mend me to my friends!' The Pasha, also, seemed to think 
that nothing could be worse than the outlook, for he specially 
recommended his child to my care. Now, reading such words, 
a month after they were written, was not very assuring. 
However, I picked up a crumb of comfort in the fact that 
Mr. Jephson said he could come to me if he were informed 
of my arrival, which I decided was the best thing for him to 
do. Accordingly, an imperative message was sent to him, 
not to debate, but to act ; and, like a faithful and obedient 
officer, he stepped into a canoe, and came. 

After shaking hands, and congratulating him upon his nar- 
row escape from being a footman to the Emperor of the 
Soudan, I said, * Well, Jephson, speak. Is the Pasha decided 
by this what to do now?' 

* To tell you the truth, I know no more what the Pasha 
intends doing now than I did nine months ago.' 

' What, after nine months' intercourse with him?* 

' Quite so, — not a bit.' 

It was not long before the mystery that had struck me the 
year before was cleared up. The Pasha had been deceived by 
the fair-spoken, obsequious Egyptian and Soudanese officers ; 
and, through his good-natured optimism, we, also, had been 
deceived. They had revolted three times, and had refused to 
obey any order he had given them. This was the fourth and 
final revolt. As early as 1879, Gessi Pasha had drawn General 
Gordon's attention to the state of affairs in Equatoria, and 
had reported that, immediately the communication with 
Khartoum had been suspended by the closing of the Upper 
Nile by the Sudd, the indiscipline had been such as to cause 
anxiety. In 1886, Emin Pasha had fled from the ist Battalion, 
and, until his imprudent resolve to take Mr. Jephson among 
the rebels, had held no communication with them. The 2nd 



THE RESCUE OF EMIN 369 

Battalion, also, only performed just such service as pleased 
them when he condescended to use coaxing, while the Irregu- 
lars, of course, would follow the majority of the Regulars. This 
much was clear from the narrative, written and oral, of Mr. 
Jephson. 

I resolved to try once more, and ascertain what measures 
agreeable to him I should take. Did he wish an armed rescue, 
or was it possible for him to do anything, such as seizing a 
steamer and following Jephson, or marching out of Tunguru, 
where he was a prisoner, to meet me outside of the fort? or 
had he quite made up his mind to remain a prisoner at Tun- 
guru, until the rebels would dispose of him? Anyway, and 
every way, if he could only express a definite wish, we vowed 
we should help him to the uttermost. I wrote to him a cere- 
moniously-polite letter to that effect, for I was warned that 
the Pasha was extremely sensitive. 

While my letter was on the lake being conveyed to Tunguru, 
matters were settled in quite an inconceivable fashion at 
Tunguru station. The rebel officers had sent a deputation to 
the Pasha to ask his pardon, and to offer to re-instate him in 
his Governorship. The pardon was readily given, but he de- 
clined yet awhile to accept the Governorship. They asked 
him if he would be good enough to accompany them to pay 
me a visit, and introduce them to me. The Pasha consented, 
embarked on board the steamer, the refugees likewise crowded 
on board the 'Khedive* and 'Nyanza,' and, on the 13th Feb- 
ruary, the two steamers approached our camp ; two days later, 
the Pasha and rebel officers entered our camp. 

According to the Pasha, the Mahdist invasion, the capture 
of four stations, and the massacre of many of their numbers, 
had cowed the rebels, and they were now truly penitent for 
their insane conduct to him; and every soul was willing to 
depart, out of the Equatorial Province, at least, if not to 
Egypt. The officers now only came to beg for time to assemble 
their families. Agreeably to the Pasha's request, a reasonable 
time was granted, and they departed. The Governor thought 
that twenty days would be sufficient ; we granted a month. At 
the end of thirty days the Pasha requested another extension ; 
we allowed fourteen days more. Finally, at the end of forty- 
four days, not one officer of the rebel party having made his 



370 HENRY M. STANLEY 

appearance, we broke camp, and commenced our journey 
homeward with five hundred and seventy refugees, consisting 
of a few Egyptian officers, clerks, and their famihes ; but, on the 
second day, an illness prostrated me, which permitted them 
twenty-eight days more, and yet, after seventy-two days' 
halt, only one person had availed himself of my offer. 

On the seventy-third day since my meeting with the rebel 
officers, four soldiers brought a message stating that the 
rebels had formed themselves into two parties, under Fadle 
Mulla Bey, and Selim Bey, and the party of the first-named 
had seized all the ammunition from the other party, and had 
fled to Makraka. Selim Bey, unable to muster resolution to 
follow us, preferred to remain to curse Fadle Mulla Bey and 
his folly ; and what the end of these misguided and unprin- 
cipled men may be, no person knows, outside of that unhappy 
region ! 

On the 8th May I resumed the march ^ for the Indian Ocean. 
The fifth day's march brought us to the edge of highlands, 
whence we looked down into a deep valley, two thousand 
six hundred feet below us. In width, it varied from six to 
twenty miles. To the north, we could see a bit of the south end 
of Lake Albert. Southward, seventy miles off, was another 
lake, to which I have given the name of Albert Edward ; and 
the surplus waters of the southernmost lake meandered 
through this valley down into the northernmost, or Albert 
Lake. 

Opposite to the place whence I looked upon the Semliki 
Valley, rose an enormous range of mountains, whose summits 
and slopes, for about three thousand feet, were covered with 
perpetual snow. As the snow-line near the Equator is found 
at a little over fifteen thousand feet, I may then safely esti- 
mate the height of these mountains to be between eighteen 
thousand and nineteen thousand feet above the level of the 
sea. The singular thing about these mountains is that so many 
white travellers — Sir Samuel and Lady Baker, Gessi Pasha, 
Mason Bey, Emin Pasha, and Captain Casati — should have 
been within observing distance and never had an opportunity 
to view them. 

^ Emin's people, alone, succoured and convoyed to the Coast by Stanley, numbered 
about a thousand. — D. S. 



THE RESCUE OF EMIN 37i 

There were also a thousand of our expedition who were for 
seventy-two days, or thereabouts, within easy visual distance 
of the phenomenon, but not one man saw it until suddenly it 
issued out from the obscurity, its great peaks islanded in an 
atmosphere of beautiful translucence. And, for three days in 
succession, the wonderful mountains stood aloft in glorious 
majesty, with an indefinable depth of opaline sky above, 
beyond, and around them, the marvel of the curious and de- 
lighted multitude ! For three days I saw them, spell-bound 
and wondering. 

The natives generally called them the Ruwenzori Moun- 
tains. Scheabeddin, an Arab geographer, writing about Anno 
Domini 1400, says, 'In the midst of the Isle of Mogreb, which 
is Africa, are the deserts of the Negroes, which separate the 
country of the Negroes from that of Berbers. In this isle is 
also the source of that great river which has not its equal 
upon the earth. It comes from the Mountains of the Moon, 
which lie beyond the Equator. Many sources come from 
these mountains, and unite in a great lake. From this lake 
comes the Nile, the greatest, and most beautiful of the rivers 
of all the earth.' This is only one of the many early authori- 
ties which I have quoted in my book, 'Darkest Africa,' to 
prove that the Ruwenzori range forms the long-lost Moun- 
tains of the Moon.^ 

Still another discovery was that of the Albert Edward 
Nyanza — called in ancient times the Sea of Darkness, whose 
waters were said to be sweeter than honey, and more fragrant 
than musk. I cannot endorse this Oriental estimation of their 
excellence ; to many, the waters of the muddy Missouri would 
be preferable ! 

Quitting the head-waters of the Nile, I ascended some three 
thousand feet into a higher altitude, and began a journey 
over a rich pastoral land, which extends to the south end of the 

^ These mountains make a chapter in the romance of historical geography. It was 
Stanley's discovery that brought them out of the realm of legend. Not long before his 
death, he expressed to the Royal Geographical Society his 'dear wish' that the range 
might be thoroughly explored. Their ascent was attempted by many, beginning with 
Captain Stairs in 1889, and the work was at last thoroughly and scientifically done by 
H. R. H., the Duke of the Abruzzi, in June, 1906, and he named the highest range, 
Mount Stanley, and the two highest points, Margherita Peak (16,815 feet) and Queen 
Alexandra Peak (16,749). — D. S. 



372 HENRY M. STANLEY 

Victoria Nyanza. In consideration of having driven Kabba 
Rega's raiders from the shores of the Albert Edward, and 
freed the salt lakes from their presence, I received hearty 
ovations and free rations from the various kings along a march 
of five hundred miles. 

At the south end of Lake Victoria, I found reserve stores, 
which had been deposited there eighteen months before, 
awaiting us. Then, greatly strengthened by a good rest and 
food, on the i6th September I left that lake, having dis- 
covered an extension to it of six thousand square miles. 

Four days from the sea, two American newspaper-corre- 
spondents arrived at my camp. One of them, a representative 
of the 'New York Herald,' delivered to me a supply of clothes, 
and other very necessary articles, besides a judicious supply 
of good wine, which cheered us greatly. A little later, we met 
a large caravan sent by Sir William Mackinnon, freighted with 
provisions and clothes for our people. 

On the morning of the 4th December, 1889, Emin Pasha, 
Captain Casati, and myself were escorted by Major Wissmann 
to Bagamoyo, the port opposite Zanzibar; and, in the after- 
noon, the porters of the expedition filed in, to lay their weary 
burdens of sick and moaning fellow-creatures down for the 
last time. Our journey of six thousand and thirty-two miles 
from the Western Ocean to the Indian Sea was now at an end. 

That night the German Imperial Commissary gave a ban- 
quet to thirty-four persons, consisting of our travellers, Ger- 
man, British, and Italian civil and military officers, and after 
a style that even New York could scarcely excel. The utmost 
cordiality prevailed, and laudatory and grateful speeches were 
delivered, and not the least graceful and finished was that 
of the Pasha. But within ten minutes afterwards, while the 
guests were most animated, the Pasha wandered away from 
the banqueting-hall out into the bajcony ; and, presently, in 
some unaccountable manner, fell over the low wall into the 
street, some eighteen feet below. Had not a zinc shed, five 
feet below the balcony which shaded the sidewalk, broken the 
fall, the accident would no doubt have been fatal. As it was, 
he received severe contusions, and a sharp concussion of the 
base of the brain. A German officer had him conveyed to the 
hospital, while three doctors hastened to his assistance. In 



THE RESCUE OF EMIN 373 

less than a month he was sufficiently recovered to begin ar- 
ranging his entomological collections. 

Up to the time of his fall, it had been a pleasant enough 
intercourse since leaving Mtsora, in the middle of June. There 
had been no grievance or dispute between him and any of our 
party. The most kindly messages were interchanged daily; 
presents and choice gifts were exchanged ; in fact, our inter- 
course was thoroughly fraternal. But his fall suddenly put a 
barrier in some strange way between us. If the British Consul- 
general expressed a desire to pay a visit to him, some excuse 
of a relapse was given. If I wished to go over to Bagamoyo, 
his condition immediately became critical. Surgeon Parke, 
who attended to him for the first three weeks, found that 
things were not so pleasant for him as formerly. If I sent my 
black boy, Sali, to him with a note of condolence, and some 
suggestion, the boy was told he would be hanged if he went to 
the hospital again ! To our officers. Dr. Parke and Mr. Jeph- 
son, he freely complained of the German officers. My friendly 
note, asking him to have some regard to his reputation, was 
at once shown by him to Major Wissmann. It was curious, 
too, how the Pasha, who thought at Equatoria that his people 
were so dear to him that he professed himself ready to sacri- 
fice his future for them, dropped his dear people from his 
mind, and told them with a brutal frankness that he had 
nothing further to do with them. The muster and pay-roll of 
the rescued Egyptians was, therefore, not sent to Egypt ; and 
the poor fellows waited months for the many years' pay due 
to them, inasmuch as no one knew anything of the accounts. 

Finally, in March, the secret was out : the Pasha had en- 
gaged himself to the Germans on the 5th of February ; and 
then it transpired that all these strange and wholly unneces- 
sary acts were with a view to cut himself adrift from all con- 
nection with his bid friends and employers, before committing 
himself to a new employment ! 

However benevolent and considerate Emin's English friends 
may have been disposed to be towards him, they were not 
above being affronted at their kind offices being rejected so 
churlishly, and from the offended tone which the Press now 
assumed, may be gathered the nature of my own feelings when 
I first became acquainted with his uncertain disposition, and 



374 HENRY M. STANLEY 

his capricious and eccentric nature. But, in its furious disap- 
pointment, a large portion of the Press was unable to dis- 
criminate between Emin and me. Day after day it lavished 
the foulest accusations and the most violent abuse against 
me. It was stated by the newspapers that I had captured 
Emin by force ; that I had been tyrannical and overbearing ; 
that the ' Rescue,' always printed with quotation-marks, had 
been a farce ; that I had destroyed the 'civilised edifice' which 
Emin had so laboriously built, etc., etc. ; and some even hinted 
that it was I who had pushed Emin over the balcony-wall. 
But why proceed ? 

As has been seen, Emin came to my camp of his own will ; 
I had treated him with almost superhuman patience ; my ap- 
pearance at Kavalli was the means of saving his life ; as for the 
' civilised edifice,' Heaven save the mark ! Emin's departure 
from that region broke up organised slave-bands, which, since 
Gordon's death, had, under the mask of government, com- 
mitted as much devastation, robbery, and slave-raiding, as 
even the Manyuema had been guilty of. 

Before many months had passed, the Germans in their 
turn began to be enlightened as to the true character of their 
eccentric countryman ; and the German Commissioner, who 
had toiled so hard to secure Emin from the British, affected 
to be seriously pained and aggrieved by his pranks. After 
a few weeks' work, establishing three military stations, he 
appears to have become involved in a most unfortunate inci- 
dent. The story goes that he came across a large caravan 
belonging to four Arabs, whose goods he wished to purchase 
at his own price. The traders were reluctant to forfeit their 
hopes of gain, which had induced the venture, and declined 
Emin's terms; whereupon, it is alleged, a charge of slave- 
trading was trumped up against them, their goods were seized, 
and they themselves were drowned in Lake Victoria. 

News of this had no sooner reached the coast, than the 
Commissioner, after communicating with Berlin, received 
orders to recall him. Before this order could reach him, Emin 
had thrown up his appointment, taken German soldiers, in 
Government employ, and entered British territory with the 
idea of accomplishing some project hostile to English interests. 
With this view he continued his journey to Kavalli, where he 




o 

00 



THE RESCUE OF EMIN 375 

met his old rebellious officers from the Equatorial Province. 
They were implored to enlist under his banner ; but, with the 
exception of a few slaves, who soon after deserted him, the 
rebels turned a deaf ear to his appeals. 

Baffled by what he called their ' ingratitude and perverse- 
ness,' he headed West, dismissed his only white companion, 
and soon after plunged into the Great Forest, where he came 
across an old acquaintance, Ismaili, who, in 1887, had almost 
made an end of Nelson and Parke. This man he succeeded in 
securing as guide towards the Congo. Four days' march from 
Kibongi, above Stanley Falls, Emin had the ill-luck to meet 
Said-bin-Abed, a kinsman of one of the Arabs alleged to have 
been drowned in the Lake. The Arab turned upon his slave 
Ismaili, and upbraided him savagely for guiding such an en- 
emy into the Arab country, and ordered Ismaili immediately 
to kill him; whereupon Emin was seized, thrown upon the 
ground, and, while his assistants held him fast by the arms and 
legs, Ismaili drew his sword, and smote his head off. What a 
strange, eventful history, for this commonplace epoch of ours ! 

The unselfish joy which caused each man, black and white, 
to raise that shout of exultation when we first beheld Lake 
Albert, and knew that the goal was won, and that the long 
train of sad memories had been left behind, deserved that I 
should have been able to pay Emin Pasha the uttermost 
honour; but it was simply — impossible. 

I console myself, however, that through this mission, I have 
been supplied with a store of remarkable reminiscences ; that 
I have explored the heart of the great, primeval forest ; that I 
have had unique experiences with its pigmies and cannibals ; 
that I have discovered the long-lost, snowy Mountains of the 
Moon, the sources of the Albertine Nile, also Lake Albert 
Edward, besides an important extension of the Victoria 
Nyanza; and that finally, through my instrumentality, four 
European Governments (British, French, German, and Por- 
tuguese) have been induced to agree what their several spheres 
of influence shall be in the future, in the Dark Continent, 
with a view to exercising their beneficent powers for its re- 
demption from the state of darkness and woe in which it has 
too long remained. 



376 HENRY M. STANLEY 

In England there arose bitter controversies over stories of mis- 
doings by some of the Rear-Column. There is no occasion to reopen 
these controversies ; but Stanley in a letter, cabled from America to 
the 'Times,' dealt with the imputations that cruelty to the natives 
was an ordinary incident of English advance in Africa, and this 
expression of his sentiments deserves permanent record. 

To THE Editor of the 'Times.' 

Sir : — Now that the storm of controversy as to the rear- 
guard of the Emin Relief Expedition has somewhat cleared 
away, and, as an appendix, if I may so call it, to my letter of 
December 3, I will ask you to allow me a few more words, 
final words, on my part, as I hope, and dealing mainly with the 
most serious aspect of the affair — the impression produced 
upon other nations by the disclosure of certain acts done by 
Englishmen in Africa. 

It is hardly yet time for me to express the sorrow I truly 
feel at the pain these inevitable disclosures have brought upon 
men and women innocent of any fault ; but no one is likely 
to question the earnestness of my regret at a result so directly 
counter to the wishes close to my heart. As it is, this is an 
opportunity given to competing nations to cast a slur upon 
British enterprise in Africa. Beyond and above any personal 
question whatever stands the honour of the English name. I 
wish, therefore, to say, with whatever weight my long experi- 
ence may give my words, that I believe that conduct such 
as that above alluded to is entirely unusual and exceptional 
among Englishmen engaged in pioneering work in Africa. 

I believe no nation has surpassed the English in tone, 
temper, and principle, in dealing with the Negro races ; on the 
other hand, there have been many English explorers, from my 
revered master, David Livingstone, down to my own com- 
rades in the Advance Guard of this last expedition, who have 
united, in quite a singular degree, gentleness with valour. 

For myself, I lay no claim to any exceptional fineness of 
nature ; but I say, beginning life as a rough, ill-educated, im- 
patient man, I have found my schooling in these very African 
experiences which are now said by some to be in themselves 
detrimental to European character. I have learnt by actual 
stress of imminent danger, in the first place, that self-control 
is more indispensable than gunpowder, and, in the second 



THE RESCUE OF EMIN 377 

place, that persistent self-control under the provocation of 
African travel is impossible without real, heartfelt sympathy 
for the natives with whom one has to deal. If one regards 
these natives as mere brutes, then the annoyances that their 
follies and vices inflict are indeed intolerable. 

In order to rule them, and to keep one's life amongst them, 
it is needful resolutely to regard them as children, who require, 
indeed, different methods of rule from English or American 
citizens, but who must be ruled in precisely the same spirit, 
with the same absence of caprice and anger, the same essential 
respect to our fellow-men. 

In proof of the fact that British explorers, as a whole, have 
learnt these lessons, I would point simply to the actual state 
of British influence in Africa. That influence, believe me, 
could neither have been acquired, nor maintained, by physical 
force alone. 

So long as Englishmen in Africa continue in the future the 
conduct which has, on the whole, distinguished them in the 
past, I fear for them no rivalry in the great work of tropical 
civilisation, a work which cannot be successfully carried out 
in the commercial, and, still less in the military, spirit alone. 

It is only by shewing ourselves superior to the savages, not 
only in the power of inflicting death, but in the whole manner 
of regarding life, that we can attain that control over them 
which, in their present stage, is necessary to their own welfare, 
even more than to ours. 

Africa is inhabited not by timid Hindoos, or puny Aus- 
tralian aborigines, but by millions of robust, courageous men. 
It is no cant or sentimentalism, it is an obvious dictate of ordi- 
nary prudence, to say that, if we are to hold these men in 
such control as shall make Africa equal to any continent in 
serviceableness to mankind at large, it is by moral superiority, 
first of all, that control must be won, and must be maintained, 
as far as any white man can hope to maintain it. 

Yours truly, 

Henry Morton Stanley. 

Washington, Dec. 8th, 1890. 

In judging of human achievement, we may take Browning's view* 

' Life 's just the stuff 
To test the soul on.' 



378 HENRY M. STANLEY 

Never was there an experience which more displayed and de- 
veloped the grandest qualities of manhood, than did this march 
through Darkest Africa, in chief, heutenants, and followers. 

The outward results should not be under-estimated, and the net 
outcome is well given in a letter of Sir George Grey, written three 
years afterwards, when he was fresh from reading, not Stanley's 
story, but Parke's, 

Auckland, February 24th, 1892. 

My dear Stanley, 

I have been reading the Journal of your surgeon, Mr. Parke. 
From it I understood for the first time what you had accomplished. 
I had looked at the whole expedition more as a matter of exploration 
than anything else, and thought that scant justice had been done 
you. Now, I regard what you accomplished as an heroic feat. 

Let me put it to you from my point of view. Great Britain, in 
pursuit of a great object, had, through the proper authorities, sent 
an officer to rule a great province. He was accompanied by an Egyp- 
tian force, acting under his orders, that is, under those of British 
authorities; and the forces and civil officers were accompanied by 
wives, children, servants, and followers of every kind. They formed 
an offshoot from Khartoum, but very remote from it. 

Disturbances arose in the country, Khartoum and its depend- 
encies were cut off from intercourse with the external world. Great 
Britain determined to rescue her officers, and undertook to do so 
by the only route used by civilised man, that is, by the line of com- 
munication which led from the northward. She failed ; Gordon fell ; 
the attempt was abandoned. Emin Pasha, his provinces, his forces, 
his civil servants, and adherents, with all their women and children, 
were abandoned to their fate ; but held out. Emin Pasha naturally 
strove to communicate with Europe, imploring to be extricated 
from his difficulties. His strong appeals roused sympathy, and 
shame at his abandonment. 

It was determined to rescue him. How was this to be done? The 
only route by which this could be done was by reaching him from 
the southward. But what a task was this — an almost hopeless one ! 

What a journey from the East Coast, or West Coast, before one 
could turn northward and reach him! What difficult regions, in 
many parts unknown, to traverse! What wilds and forests to tra- 
verse! What barbarous tribes to confront! By what means were 
the requisite arms, ammunition, and, supplies, to be carried, which 
would enable Emin to continue to hold his own, if he chose to re- 
main ; or enable you all to force, if necessary, your way to some port 
where you could embark? 

Undaunted by these evident difficulties, you undertook this task. 
After truly severe exertions, you reach him. He joins you,. emerges 
from his difficulties with all his followers. You have saved, at great 
sacrifices, portions of the arms and ammunition on which the safety 
of all depends. You now find that nearly a thousand human beings, 



(Facsimile) 



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WHITEHALL, S.W. 

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THE RESCUE OF EMIN 379 

men, women, and children, are committed to your care. These you. 
are to conduct by a long perilous route to a port, where they embark 
for Egypt. The whole native population along a great part of the 
route is hostile, or alarmed at this great body of armed men and 
their families invading their territories. They can little understand 
that they are returning to their homes. If so, why do they not re- 
turn by the same way by which they left them? Naturally they 
view with suspicion and alarm this worn, diseased multitude, which 
they are often ill able to supply with sufficient food to save them 
from starvation. 

Yet this body of human beings you have to supply with rations, 
with arms, with medicines ; without horses or carriages of any kind, 
the sick and wounded had to be moved ; little children and famishing 
mothers had to be got along somehow ; through long and exhausting 
marches, water had to be found, wild iDeasts kept off, who, notwith- 
standing all precautions, carried off several little ones in the night. 
You had quarrels and animosities to compose, discipline to preserve 
amongst men of various races and languages, and a multitude of 
other cases to meet ; yet you were in ill health yourself, worn by great 
toils in previous years, and in an unhealthy climate, which rendered 
men fretful, sullen, and careless of life. Nevertheless, you accom- 
plished your task, and led your people — but a residue of them, 
indeed — to a port of safety, without reward and without promo- 
tion, or recognition from your country. 

I have thought over all history, but I cannot call to mind a 
greater task than you have performed. It is not an exploration, 
alone, you have accomplished ; it is also a great military movement, 
by which those who were in the British service were rescued from a 
position of great peril. 

Most truly yours, 

George Grey.* 

^ The Rt. Hon. Sir George Grey, K. C. B., 'Soldier, Explorer, Administrator, States- 
man, Thinker, and Dreamer,' to quote James Milne, was born in 1812, and died in 
1898. He was buried in St. Paul's Cathedral, being accorded a public funeral. 

Governor of South Australia, when twenty-nine, he was subsequently twice Governor, 
and, later, Premier, of New Zealand ; appointed as the first Governor of Cape Colony, 
1854-59, Sir George Grey, by a daring assumption of personal responsibility, 'prob- 
ably saved India,' as Lord Malmesbury said, by diverting to India British troops meant 
for China, and also despatching re-enforcements from the Cape — the first to reach 
India — on the outbreak of the Mutiny. 

He was active in English public life in 1868-70, and in Australian affairs in 1870-94 
(Milne's Romance of a Proconsul). 

Referring to Sir George Grey's masterly despatches, with their singularly clear and 
definite analysis of the conditions of South Africa, Basil Worsfold (History of South 
Africa, in Dent's Temple Series) says, ' In so far as any one cause can be assigned for the 
subsequent disasters, both military and administrative, of the British Government in 
South Africa, it is to be found in the unwillingness of the "man in Downing Street" 
to listen to the man at Cape Town.' 



38o HENRY M. STANLEY 



PART II. PRIVATE REFLECTIONS 

The foregoing pages are compiled partly from unpublished papers 
of Stanley's, and partly from his private Journals. Some further 
passages may here be given from private note-books, written in his 
leisure. The writing was evidently prompted by an impulse of self- 
defense ; partly, with regard to Emin, whose real name was Edouard 
Schnitzer, and, partly, as the result of strictures on his own char- 
acter as a commander, in the published Journals of some of his 
lieutenants. The perspective of events changes rapidly with time, 
and Emin has so fallen into the background of history, that it 
seems unnecessary to cite the many instances of his baffling behaviour 
and egregious weaknesses through his devious career. 

STANLEY ON THE PERSONNEL AND TRIALS OF THE EXPEDITION 

As to his lieutenants, the limitations of space forbid a full quo- 
tation of Stanley's frank and dramatic account of the difficulties 
in the early part of the march. There was a sharp difference before 
leaving the Congo. The Zanzibaris preferred formal complaint 
against two officers, for beating them, and taking away their food ; 
the officers, each in turn, being summoned to the scene, made a hot 
defence, in such language and manner that Stanley dismissed them 
from the expedition on the spot. One of their brother officers inter- 
ceded, and was told that the lieutenants' disrespect was evidently 
the culmination of secret disaffection and grumbling. Stanley said 
to them : — 

'Never a sailing-ship sailed from a port but some of the 
crew have taken the first opportunity to "try it on" with the 
captain. In every group, or band, of men, it appears to be a 
rule that there must be a struggle for mastery, and an attempt 
to take the leader's measure, before they can settle down 
to their proper position. I hope you who remain will under- 
stand that there can be only one chief in command in this 
expedition, and I am that chief, and in all matters of duty 
I expect implicit obedience and respect.' 

Thus Stanley addressed his officers; the two who had offended 
made manly apologies, which were accepted, and they were re- 
stored to their places. With the handshake of reconciliation the 
incident terminated, so far as Stanley was concerned. But what he 
calls 'stupid personalities,' in certain published Diaries, moved him 
to write out his own full and private statement of this, and some 
later fictions, which there seems no occasion now to reproduce. 



THE RESCUE OF EMIN 381 

But we are indebted to it for some portraitures, as well as for an 
exposition of the social and individual experiences, generated in the 
African wilds, which may well be given here. 

For one so young, Stairs' s abilities and sterling sense were 
remarkable ; and, in military pliancy at the word of command, 
he was a born soldier. This is a merit which is inestimable in 
a tropical country, where duty has to be done. A leader in a 
climate like that of Africa, cannot sugar-coat his orders, and 
a certain directness of speech must be expected ; under such 
fretting conditions as we were in, it was a source of joy to feel 
that in Stairs I had a man, who, when a thing had to be 
done, could face about, and proceed to do it, as effectively as 
I could do it in person. In the way of duty he was without 
reproach. 

Surgeon Parke's temper was the best-fitted for Africa. With 
his unsophisticated simplicity, and amusing naivete, it was 
impossible to bear a grudge against him. Outside of his pro- 
fession, he was not so experienced as Stairs. When placed 
in charge of a company, his muster-book soon fell into 
confusion ; but by the erasures, and re-arrangements, it was 
evident that he did his best. Such men may blunder over 
and over again, and receive absolution. He possessed a fund 
of genuine wit and humour ; and the innocent pleasure he 
showed when he brought smiles to our faces, endeared him 
to me. This childlike naivete, which distinguished him in 
Africa, as in London society, had a great deal to do with the 
affectionateness with which everyone regarded him. But he 
was super-excellent among the sick and suffering; then his 
every action became precise, firm, and masterful. There was 
no shade of doubt on his face, not a quiver of his nerves ; his 
eyes grew luminous with his concentrated mind. Few people 
at home know what an African ulcer is like. It grows as large 
as the biggest mushroom ; it destroys the flesh, discloses the 
arteries and sinews, and having penetrated to the bone, con- 
sumes it, and then eats its way round the limb. The sight is 
awful, the stench is horrible; yet Parke washed and dressed 
from twenty to fifty of such hideous sores daily, and never 
winced. The young man's heart was of pure gold. At such 
times, I could take off my cap, out of pure reverence to his 
heroism, skill, and enduring patience. When Stairs was 



382 HENRY M. STANLEY 

wounded with a poisoned arrow, he deliberately sucked it, 
though, had the poison been fresh, it might have been a highly 
dangerous proceeding. All the whites passed through his 
hands ; and, if they do not owe their lives to him, they owed 
him a great debt of gratitude for relief, ease, and encourage- 
ment, as well as incomparable nursing. 

Personally, I was twice attacked by gastritis, and how he 
managed to create out of nothing, as it were, palatable food 
for an inflamed stomach, for such prolonged periods, and to 
maintain his tenderness of interest in his fractious patient, 
was a constant marvel to me. When consciousness returned 
to me, out of many delirious fits, his presence seemed to lighten 
that sense of approaching calamity that often pressed on me. 
Could the wounded and sick Zanzibaris have spoken their 
opinion of him, they would have said, 'He was not a man, but 
an angel ' ; for the attributes he showed to the suffering were so 
unusually noble and exquisitely tender, that poor, wayward 
human nature wore, for once, a divine aspect to them. 

And Jephson, so honourable, and high-minded : though of 
a vehement character at first, one of his intelligence and 
heart is not long in adapting himself to circumstances. He 
developed quickly, taking the rough work of a pioneer with 
the indifference of a veteran. He was endowed with a greater 
stock of physical energy than any of the others, and exhib- 
ited most remarkable endurance. At first, I feared that he 
was inclined to be too rough on his company; but this was 
before he mastered the colloquial expressions, which, with 
old travellers, serve the same purpose as the stick. 

When a young Englishman, replete with animal vigour, and 
braced for serious work, has to lead a hundred or so raw na- 
tives, who cannot understand a word he says, a good deal of 
ungentle hustling must be expected ; but, as soon as he is able 
to express himself in the vernacular, both commander and 
natives soon lose that morbid fault-finding to which they were 
formerly disposed, and the stick becomes a mere badge of 
authority. Chaff, or a little mild malice, spiced with humour, 
is often more powerful than the rod with Africans. By the 
time we issued from the forest, Jephson had become a most 
valuable officer, with his strong, brave, and resolute nature, 
capable for any work. If I were to sum up the character of 



THE RESCUE OF EMIN 383 

Jephson in one word, I should say it was one of fine manliness, 
and courage. 

Nelson, also, was a fine fellow, with whom I do not remem- 
ber to have had a single misunderstanding. Considering that 
we were a thousand and thirty days together in Africa, and 
in the gloomiest part of it, for most of that time, it appears 
to me wonderful that we ' pulled together ' so well. 

India is a very old land, and provides countless aids to 
comfort, which are a great balm for trouble. Yet, as the Congo 
climate is more trying than that of India, and is quite barren 
of the 'comforts' which are supposed to sweeten an English- 
man's temper, it ought not to be expected that five English- 
men should have been able to pierce through darkest Africa 
without a tiff or two. 

As the preceding chapter * records all the misunderstandings 
that occurred between us, I felt justified on reaching the sea 
in saying, ' Well done ' to each of them. Not even a saint is 
proof against a congested liver, and a miserable diet of horse- 
food and animal provender ; and, yet, during their severe ex- 
periences of the Forest, the officers were in better temper than 
when, ascending the Congo, they enjoyed regular meals. The 
toughest human patience may be stretched to breaking when 
fever is rioting in the veins, when the head is filled with hot 
blood, and the poor victim of malaria is ready to sink with 
his burden of responsibilities, when black servants take ad- 
vantage of their master's helplessness, and a thoughtless 
companion chooses that inopportune moment to air his griev- 
ances, or provoke a discussion. When one is recovering from 
a fever, his senses racked, his ears in a tumult with quinine, 
his loins aching with inflamed vitals, it is too much to expect a 
sufferer, at this stage, to smile like a full-fed dreamer at home. 

One of my precautions against these intermittent periods of 
gloom and bitterness, when the temper is tindery, was to mess 
separately. Years ago, the unwisdom of being too much to- 
gether had been forcibly impressed on me ; I discovered that 
my remarks formed too much 'copy ' for note-books, and that 
my friends were in the habit of indiscriminately setting down 
every word, too often in a perverted sense, and continually 
taking snap-shots at me, without the usual formula of the 

* This refers to an unpublished private Journal, from which this is an extract. — D. S. 



384 HENRY M. STANLEY 

photographer, * Look pleasant, please ! ' On the Congo, it is 
too hot to stand on an open-air pedestal for long ! One must 
be in 'undress,' occasionally; and during such times he is not 
supposed to be posing for the benefit of Fleet Street ! Then, 
upon the strength of table acquaintance, I found that the 
young men were apt to become overweening, familiar, and 
oblivious of etiquette and discipline. From that date, I 
took to living alone, by which my judgement of my subordi- 
nates was in no danger of being biassed by their convivial 
discourse ; and I was preserved from the contempt which too 
often proceeds from familiarity. 

No doubt, I was debarred by this isolation from much that 
was entertaining and innocent, as well as deprived of that 
instruction, which simple youngsters of the jolly, and silly, 
age are prone to impart to their seniors ; but that was my loss, 
not theirs. On the other hand, my opinions of them were not 
likely to be tinctured by malicious gossip, which is generally 
outspoken at a dining- table, or in a camp ; and I certainly dis- 
countenanced grumblers and cavillers. On an African ex- 
pedition, there often arises a necessity for sudden orders, which 
must be followed by prompt obedience, and the stern voice 
and peremptory manner at such times are apt to jar on the 
nerves of a subaltern, whose jokes were lately received with 
laughter, unless he be one whose temper is controlled by his 
judgement. 

When a young white officer quits England for the first 
time, to lead blacks, he has got to learn and unlearn a great 
deal. All that he knows is his mother-tongue, and the art of 
reading, writing, and criticising. In Africa, he finds himself 
face to face with a new people, of different manners and cus- 
toms, with whom he cannot exchange a word. He can do 
nothing for himself ; there is no service that he can do with 
his arms ; he cannot even cook his food, or set up his tent, or 
carry his bed. He has to depend on" the black men for every- 
thing ; but if he has a patient temper and self-control, he can 
take instruction from those who know the natives, and in 
many little ways he can make himself useful. If he is fault- 
finding, proud, and touchy, it will be months before he is worth 
his salt. In these early days he must undeceive himself as to 
his merits, and learn that, if he is humoured and petted more 



THE RESCUE OF EMIN 385 

than the blacks, it is not because of his white skin, but because 
of his childish helplessness, and in the hope that when his 
eighteen months' apprenticehip is over, he will begin to show 
that his keep was to some purpose. 

We mi'ist have white men in Africa ; but the raw white is 
as great a nuisance there during the first year, as a military 
recruit who never saw a gun till he enlisted. In the second 
year, he begins to mend ; during the third year, if his nature 
permits it, he has developed into a superior man, whose 
intelligence may be of transcendent utility for directing 
masses of inferior men. 

I speak from a wide experience of white men whom I have 
had under me in Africa. One cannot be always expostulating 
with them, or courting their affection, and soothing their 
amour-propre ; but their excessive susceptibility, while their 
bodies are being harrowed by the stern process of acclimatiza- 
tion, requires great forbearance. It took the officers some 
months to learn that, when they stood at the head of their 
companies, and I repeated for the benefit of the natives in 
their own language the orders already given to them in Eng- 
lish, I was not speaking about themselves! By and by, as 
they picked up a word or two of the native language, they 
became less suspicious, and were able to distinguish between 
directness of speech and an afi^ront. I, of course, knew that 
their followers, whom they had regarded as merely ' naked 
niggers,' were faithful, willing, hard-working creatures, who 
only wanted fair treatment and good food to make them love- 
able. 

At this early period my officers were possessed with the 
notion that my manner was * hard,' because I had not many 
compliments for them. That is a kind of pap which we may 
offer women and boys, but it is not necessary for soldiers and 
men, unless it is deserved. It is true that, in the Forest, their 
demeanour was heroic ; but I preferred to wait until we were 
out of it, before telling them my opinion, just as wages are paid 
after the work is finished, and an epitaph is best written at the 
close of life. Besides, I thought they were superior natures, 
and required none of that encouragement, which the more 
childish blacks almost daily received. 

In thinking of my own conduct I am at a disadvantage, 



386 HENRY M. STANLEY 

as there is no likelihood that I should appear to others as I 
appeared to myself. I may have been in the habit of giving 
unmeasured ofifence each day by my exclusiveness ; but I was 
simply carrying out what African experience had taught me 
was best. My companions had more to learn from me than 
I had to learn from them. 

For the first eighteen months they messed together ; but dur- 
ing the latter half of the journey, they also lived apart, experi- 
ence having taught them the same lesson as I had learned. 

To some, my solitary life might present a cheerless aspect. 
But it was not so in reality. The physical exercise of the day 
induced a pleasant sense of fatigue, and my endless occupations 
were too absorbing and interesting to allow room for baser 
thoughts. There was a strange poverty about our existence, 
which could not well be matched anywhere. The climate 
gave warmth, and so we needed no fuel save for cooking. Our 
clothing could only be called presentable among naked 
people ! There was water in abundance and to spare, but soap 
was priceless. Our food consisted of maize meal and bananas, 
but an English beggar would have disdained to touch it. Our 
salt was nothing better than pulverised mud. 

I was not likely to suffer from colds, catarrh, and pneu- 
monia ; but the ague with its differing intensities was always 
with me. My bedding consisted of a rubber sheet and rug 
over a pile of leaves or grass. I possessed certain rights of 
manhood, but only so long as I had the nerve to cause them 
to be respected. My literature was limited to the Bible, 
Shakespeare, and a few choice authors, but my mind was not 
wrung by envy, scandal, disparagement, and unfairness ; and 
my own thoughts and hopes were a perpetual solace. 

It is difficult for anyone who has not undergone experiences 
similar to ours to understand the amount of self-control each 
had to exercise, for fifteen hours every day, amid such sur- 
roundings as ours. The contest between human dispositions, 
tempers, prejudices, habits, natures, and the necessity for 
self-command, were very disturbing. The extremest forms of 
repulsiveness were around us, and dogged us day by day ; the 
everlasting shade was a continued sermon upon decay and 
mortality; it reeked with the effluvia as of a grave; insects 
pursued our every movement, with their worries of stings and 



THE RESCUE OF EMIN 387 

bites, which frequently ended, because of our anaemic con- 
dition, in pimples, sores, and ulcers. Nelson was crippled with 
twenty-two obstinate ulcers, Jephson's legs will always bear 
the blue scars of many a terrible ulcer ; and I was seldom free 
from nausea. 

It would be impossible within a limited space to enumerate 
the annoyances caused by the presence of hundreds of dis- 
eased individuals with whom we travelled. Something or other 
ailed them by scores, daily. Animate and inanimate nature 
seemed arrayed against us, to test our qualities to the utmost. 
For my protection against despair and madness, I had to 
resort to self-forgetf ulness ; to the interest which my task 
brought; to the content which I felt that every ounce of 
energy, and every atom of self had been already given to my 
duty, and that, no matter what followed, nothing more could 
be extracted from me. I had my reward in knowing that my 
comrades were all the time conscious that I did my best, and 
that I was bound to them by a common sympathy and aims. 
This encouraged me to give myself up to all neighbourly 
offices, and was morally fortifying. 

The anxieties of providing for the morrow lay heavy on me ; 
for, in the savagest part of Africa, which, unknown to us, 
had been devasted by Manyuema hordes, we were not sure of 
being able to obtain anything that was eatable. Then again, 
the follies and imprudences of my black men were a constant 
source of anxiety to me, for raw levies of black men are not 
wiser than raw levies of white men ; it requires a calamity to 
teach both how to live. Not a day passed but the people re- 
ceived instruction, but in an hour it was forgotten. If all had 
been prudent with their food, we should not have suffered so 
heavily ; but the mutinous hunger of the moment obliterated 
every thought of the morrow's wants. How extremely foolish 
men can be, was exemplified by the series of losses attending 
ten months of camp-life at Yambuya.^ 

The Advance Column consisted of picked men, sound in 
health. In a month, however, many had been crippled by 
skewers in the path, placed there by the aborigines; these 
perforated their naked feet, some suffering from abrasions, or 
accidental cuts ; others had their feet gashed by the sharp edges 

' This refers to the Rear-Column. — D. S. 



388 HENRY M. STANLEY 

of oyster-shells as they waded through the creeks ; the effect 
of rain, dew, damp, fatigue, and scant food, all combined to 
impoverish the blood and render them more liable to dis- 
ease. The negligence and heedlessness of some of the men 
was astonishing : they lost their equipment, rifles, tools, and 
clothing, as though they were so many somnambulists, and 
not accountable beings. The officers were unceasing in their 
exertions, but it would have required an officer for every ten 
men, and each officer well-fed and in perfect health, to have 
overseered them properly. The history of the journey proves 
what stratagems and arts we resorted to each day to check 
the frightful demoralisation. It was in the aid and assistance 
given to me at this trying period that my officers so greatly 
distinguished themselves. 

I have frequently been asked as to whether I never de- 
spaired during the time when the men were dropping away 
so fast, and death by starvation seemed so imminent. No, I 
did not despair ; but, as I was not wholly free from morbid 
thoughts, I may be said to have been on the edge of it, for 
quite two months. ' How will all this end ?' was a question that 
I was compelled to ask myself over and over again ; and then 
my mind would speculate upon our slim chances, and proceed 
to trace elaborately the process of ruin and death. 'So many 
have died to-day, it will be the turn of a few more to-morrow, 
and a few others the next day, and so on. We shall continue 
moving on, searching for berries, fungi, wild beans, and edible 
roots, while the scouts strike far inland to right and left ; but, 
by and by, if we fail to find substantial food, even the scouts 
must cease their search and will presently pass away.' Then 
the white men, no longer supplied by the share of their pick- 
ings, which the brave fellows laid at their tent-doors, must 
begin the quest of food for themselves ; and each will ask, as 
he picks a berry here and a mushroom there, how it will all 
end, and when. And while he repeats this dumb self-question- 
ing, little side-shows of familiar scenes will be glanced at. 
One moment, a friend's face, pink and contented, will loom 
before him ; or a well-known house, or a street astir with busy 
life, or a church with its congregation, or a theatre and its 
bright-faced audience ; a tea-table will be remembered, or a 
drawing-room animate with beauty and happiness, — at least 



THE RESCUE OF EMIN 389 

something, out of the full life beyond the distant sea. After 
a while, exhausted nature will compel him to seek a leafy 
alcove where he may rest, and where many a vision will come 
to him of things that have been, until a profound darkness 
will settle on his senses. Before he is cold, a 'scout' will come, 
then two, then a score, and, finally, myriads of fierce yellow- 
bodied scavengers, their heads clad in shining horn-mail ; and, 
in a few days, there will only remain a flat layer of rags, at one 
end of which will be a glistening, white skull. Upon this will 
fall leaves and twigs, and a rain of powder from the bores in 
the red wood above, and the tornado will wrench a branch 
down and shower more leaves, and the gusty blasts will sweep 
fine humus over it, and there that curious compost begun of 
the earthly in me will lie to all eternity ! 

As I thought of this end, the chief feeling, I think, was one 
of pity that so much unselfish effort should finish in a heap 
of nothingness. I should not venture to say that my comrades 
shared in such thoughts. I could see that they were anxious, 
and that they would prefer a good loaf of bread to the best 
sermon ; but their faces betrayed no melancholy gravity such 
as follows morbid speculations. Probably, the four brave 
young hearts together managed to be more cheerful than I, 
who was solitary ; and thus they were able to cheat their minds 
out of any disposition to brood. 

While, however, one part of my nature dwelt upon stem 
possibilities, and analysed with painful minuteness the sensa- 
tions of those who daily perished from hunger, another part 
of me was excessively defiant, active in invention, fertile in 
expedients, to extricate the expedition from its impending 
fate, and was often, for no known reason, exhilarant with 
prescience of ultimate triumph. One half of me felt quite 
ready to seek a recess in the woods, when the time would come ; 
the other half was aggressive, and obstinately bent upon not 
yielding, and unceasingly alert, day and night, in seeking 
methods to rescue us all. There was no doubt that the time 
had come to pray and submit, but I still felt rebellious, and 
determined to try every stratagem to gain food for my people. 

The darkest night, however, is followed by dawn ; and, by 
dint of pressing on, we emerged once more, after two months 
of awful trials, into a land of plenty ; but before we could say a 



390 HENRY M. STANLEY 

final farewell to those Equatorial woods much more had to be 
endured, Jephson had to retrace his steps, to convey succour 
to Nelson, who had been left to guard a camp of dying men ; 
and I know not which to admire most, the splendid energy 
with which Jephson hastened to the help of his poor comrade, 
along a track strewn with the ghastly relics of humanity, or 
the strong and patient endurance of Nelson, who, for weeks, 
was condemned to sit alone amid the dying (at ' Starvation 
Camp'). 

Then came the turn of Parke and Nelson together, to strug- 
gle for months against the worrying band of Manyuema, 
whose fitful tempers and greed would have made a saint rebel ; 
and Stairs had to return two hundred miles, and escort, all 
unaided, a long line of convalescents through a country where 
one hundred and eighty of their fellows had left their bones. 
This was a feat second to none for the exhibition of the highest 
qualities that a man can possess. 

The true story of those four would make a noble odyssey. 
While learning the alphabet of African travel, they were open 
to criticism, as all men must be when they begin a strange 
work. They winced at a word, and were offended by a glance, 
and, like restive colts, untried in harness, they lashed and 
kicked furiously at me and everyone else, at first ; but when 
these men who had been lessoned repeatedly by affliction, 
and plied so often with distresses, finished their epical ex- 
periences of the Great Forest, and issued into the spacious 
daylight, I certainly was proud of them ; for their worth and 
mettle had been well tried, their sinews were perfectly 
strong, their hearts beat as one, and their discipline was com- 
plete. Each had been compelled to leave behind something 
that had gathered, in the artificial life of England, over his 
true self, and he now walked free, and unencumbered, high- 
hearted, with the stamp of true manhood on him. 

Nor was the change less conspicuous in our dark followers. 
The long marching line was now alive with cheerfulness. Even 
if one stood aside on a hummock to observe the falling and 
rising heads, one could see what a lively vigour animated th^ 
pace, and how they rose to the toes in their strides. The 
smallest signal was obeyed by hundreds with a pleasant and 
beautiful willingness. At the word 'Haiti' they came to a 



\ 



THE RESCUE OF EMIN 391 

dead stop on the instant. At 'Stack loads !' each dropped his 
burden in order; at the morning call of 'Safari !' there was no 
skulking ; at the midnight alarm, they leapt, as one man, to 
arms. 

We began now to re-date our time. What happened in the 
Forest was an old, old story, not to be remembered ; it was 
like the story of toddling childhood ; it is what happened 
after the Forest days that they loved to be reminded of ! ' Ah ! 
master,' they would say, 'why recall the time when we were 
"wayingo" (fools, or raw youths) ?' 

What singular merits we saw in one another now ! We 
could even venture upon a joke, and no one thought of being 
sullen. We could laugh at a man, and he would not be dis- 
pleased ! Each had set his life upon a cast, stood bravely the 
hazard of the die, and triumphed ! All were at peace, one with 
another, and a feeling of brotherhood possessed us, which 
endured throughout the happy aftertime between the Forest 
and the sea. 



CHAPTER XVIII 
WORK IN REVIEW 

THE close of the story of Stanley's African explorations may 
fitly be followed by a survey of the net result. Such an 
estimate is given in a paper by Mr. Sidney Low, in the 
' Cornhill Magazine,' for July, 1904, together with a sketch of Stan- 
ley's personality, at once so just and so sympathetic that the entire 
article, with only slight omissions, is here given a place. 

' The map of Africa is a monument to Stanley, aere perennius.^ 
There lie before me various atlases, published during the past sixty 
years, which is less than the span of Stanley's lifetime. I turn to a 
magnificently proportioned volume, bearing the date of 1849, when 
John Rowlands was a boy at school at Denbigh. In this atlas, the 
African Continent is exhibited, for about a third of its area, as a 
mighty blank. The coast is well-defined, and the northern part, as 
far as ten degrees from the Equator, is pretty freely sprinkled with 
familiar names. We have Lake Tchad, Bornu, Darfur, Wadi-el- 
Bagharmi, Sennaar, Kordofan, and Khartum, and so on. But at the 
southern line of "the Soudan, or Nigritia," knowledge suddenly 
ceases ; ctnd we enter upon the void that extends, right through and 
across Africa, down to the Tropic of Capricorn. " Unexplored " is 
printed, in bold letters, that stride over fifteen hundred miles of 
country, from the tropical circle to well beyond the Equator! The 
great lakes are marked only by a vague blob, somewhere in the in- 
terior, west of the Zanzibar territory. The estuary of the " Congo, 
or Zaire " is shown, and a few miles of the river inland. After that we 
are directed, by uncertain dots, along the supposed course of the 
stream northward, to where it is imagined to take its rise in the 
Montes Lunae, for which the map-maker can do no better for us 
than to refer, in brackets, to " Ptolemy " and " Abulfeda Edrisi." 

' I pass to another atlas, dated 1871. Here there is considerable 
progress, especially as regards the eastern side of the Continent. 
The White Nile and the Bahr-el-Ghazal have been traced almost to 
their sources. The Zambesi is known", and the Victoria Falls are 
marked. Lakes Victoria Nyanza and Nyassa appear with solid 
boundaries. Tanganyika, however, is still uncertain, the Albert 
Nyanza with its broken lines testifies to the doubts of the geo- 
grapher, and the Albert Edward does not appear at all ; and beyond 
the line of the lakes, and north of the tenth degree of south latitude, 

* ' Monumentum aere perennius,' says Horace, or, as we may put it, * an Everlast- 
ing memorial.' — D. S. 



WORK IN REVIEW 393 

the blank of the interior is still as conspicuous, and almost as unre- 
lieved, as it was two-and-twenty years earlier. 

' By 1 882, there is a great change. The name of Stanley has begun 
to be written indelibly upon the surface of the Continent. The vague 
truncated "Congo, or Zaire" is the "Livingstone River," flowing 
in its bold horseshoe through the heart of the formerly unexplored 
region, with "Stanley Falls " just before the river takes its first great 
spring westward, and " Stanley Pool " a thousand miles lower down, 
where, after a long southerly course, the mighty stream makes its 
final plunge to the sea. Tributary rivers, hills, lakes, villages, tribal 
appellations, dot the waste. Uganda is marked, and Urua, and 
Unyanyembe. 

' If we pass on to the present day, and look at any good recent 
map, the desert seems to have become — as, indeed, it is — quite 
populous. There is no stretch of unknown, and apparently unoccu- 
pied land, except in the Sahara, and between Somaliland and the 
White Nile. All the rest is neatly divided off, and most of it tinted 
with appropriate national colours ; the British, red ; the French, 
purple ; the German, brown ; the Portuguese, green. In the map I am 
looking at there is, right in the middle, a big irregular square or poly- 
gon, which is painted yellow. It is twelve hundred miles from north 
to south, a thousand from east to west. It is scored by the wind- 
ing black lines of rivers, — not the Congo only, but the Aruwimi, 
the Lualaba, the Sankalla, the Ubangi. It is the Congo Free State, 
one of the recognised political units of the world, with its area of 
800,000 square miles, and its population computed at fifteen mil- 
lions. The great hollow spaces have been filled in. The Dark Con- 
tinent is, geographically at any rate, dark no longer. The secret of 
the centuries has been solved ! 

' Geographical science has still its unfulfilled tasks to finish ; but 
there can never again be another Stanley ! He is the last of the dis- 
coverers, unless, indeed, we shall have to reserve the title for his 
friend and younger disciple, Sven Hedin. No other man, until the 
records of our civilisation perish, can lay bare a vast unknown tract 
of the earth's surface, for none such is left. The North Pole and the 
South Pole, it is true, are still inviolate ; but we know enough to be 
aware how little those regions can ofi^er to the brave adventurers who 
strive to pierce their mysteries. There is no Polar continent, nor 
open Antarctic Sea, only a dreary waste of lifeless ice, and unchang- 
ing snow. But the habitable and inhabited globe is mapped and 
charted ; and none of the explorers, who laboured at the work during 
the past fifty years, did so much towards the consummation as 
Stanley. Many others helped to fill in the blank in the atlas of 1849, 
which has become the network of names in the atlas of 1904. 

' A famous company of strong men gave the best of their energies 
to the opening of Africa during the nineteenth century. They were 
missionaries, like Moffat and Livingstone; scientific inquirers, like 
Barth, Rohlfs, Du Chaillu, Teleki, and Thomson ; adventurous ex- 



394 HENRY M. STANLEY 

plorers, like Speke, Grant, Burton, Cameron, and Selous; and sol- 
diers, statesmen, and organisers, such as Gordon, Rhodes, Samuel 
Baker, Emin Pasha, Johnston, Lugard, and Taubman Goldie — but 
there is no need to go through the list. Their discoveries were made 
often with a more slender equipment and scantier resources; as 
administrators, one or two at least could be counted his equals. 
But those of the distinguished band, who still survive, would 
freely acknowledge that it was Stanley who put the crown and 
coping-stone on the edifice of African exploration, and so completed 
the task, begun twenty-four centuries ago with the voyage of King 
Necho's Phoenician captains, and the Periplus of Hanno. 

* It was Stanley who gathered up the threads, brought together the 
loose ends, and united the discoveries of his predecessors into one 
coherent and connected whole. He linked the results of Livingstone's 
explorations with those of Speke, and Grant, and Burton, and so 
enabled the great lacustrine and riverine system of Equatorial 
Africa to become intelligible. Without him, the work of his most 
illustrious predecessors might still have remained only a collection 
of splendid fragments. Stanley exhibited their true relation to one 
another, and showed what they meant. He is the great — we may 
say the final — systematiser of African geography, and his achieve- 
ments in this respect can neither be superseded nor surpassed, if 
only because the opportunity exists no longer. 

'As a fact, Stanley not only completed, but he also corrected, the 
chief of all Livingstone's discoveries. The missionary traveller was 
steadily convinced that the Nile took its rise in Lake Tanganyika ; 
or, rather, that it passed right through that inland sea. Stanley, 
when he had found the Doctor, and restored the weary old man's 
spirit and confidence, induced him to join in an exploration trip 
round the north end of Tanganyika, which proved that there was no 
river flowing out of the lake, and therefore that no connection was 
possible with the Nile system. But Livingstone still believed that he 
was on the track of the great Egyptian stream. He persisted in 
regarding his Lualaba as one of the feeders of the Nile, and he was 
in search of the three fountains of Herodotus, in the neighbourhood 
of Lake Bangweolo, when he made his last journey. It was reserved 
for Stanley to clear up the mystery of the Lualaba, and to identify 
it with the mighty watercourse which, after crossing the Equator, 
empties itself, not into the Mediterranean, but into the South 
Atlantic. 

' Stanley regarded himself, and rightly, as the geographical legatee 
and executor of Livingstone. From the Scottish missionary, during 
those four months spent in his company in the autumn of 1871, the 
young adventurer acquired the passion for exploration and the 
determination to clear up the unsolved enigmas of the Dark Conti- 
nent. Before that, he does not seem to have been especially capti- 
vated by the geographical and scientific side of travel. He liked 
visiting strange countries, because he was a shrewd observer, with 



WORK IN REVIEW 395 

a lively journalistic style, which could be profitably employed in 
describing people and places. But the finding of Livingstone made 
Stanley an explorer ; and his own nature made him, in a sense, a mis- 
sionary, though not quite of the Livingstone kind. He was a man 
who was happiest when he had a mission to accomplish, some great 
work entrusted to him which had to be got through, despite of diffi- 
culties and dangers; and when the famous traveller laid down his 
tired bones in the wilderness, Stanley felt that it was decreed for him 
to carry on the work. So he has said himself in the opening passage 
of the book in which he described the voyage down the Congo. When 
he returned to England in 1874, after the Ashanti War, it was to 
learn that Livingstone was dead : — 

* "The effect which this news had upon me, after the first shock 
had passed away, was to fire me with a resolution to complete his 
work, to be, if God willed it, the next martyr to geographical science, 
or, if my life was to be spared, to clear up not only the secrets of the 
great river throughout its course, but also all that remained still 
problematic and incomplete of the discoveries of Burton and Speke, 
and Speke and Grant. 

' "The solemn day of the burial of the body of my great friend 
arrived. I was one of the pall-bearers in Westminster Abbey, and 
when I had seen the coffin lowered into the grave, and had heard the 
first handful of earth thrown over it, I walked away sorrowing over 
the fall of David Livingstone." 

' There must have been some among those present at the Memorial 
Service in Westminster Abbey, on May 17, 1904, who recalled these 
simply impressive words, and they may have wondered why the 
great Englishman who uttered them was not to lie with the great 
dead of England at Livingstone's side. 

' It Is not merely on geographical science that Stanley has left a 
permanent impress, so that, while civilised records last, his name 
can no more be forgotten than those of Columbus and the Cabots, 
of Hudson and Bartolomeo Diaz. His life has had a lasting effect 
upon the course of international politics. The partitioning of Africa, 
and its definite division into formal areas of administration or influ- 
ence, might have been delayed for many decades but for his sudden 
and startling revelation of the interior of the Continent. He initi- 
ated, unconsciously, no doubt, and involuntarily, the "scramble for 
Africa" in which Germany, France, Great Britain, Italy, Belgium, 
and Portugal have taken part. The opening up of the Congo region, 
by his two great expeditions of 1874 and 1879, precipitated a result 
which may have been ultimately Inevitable, but would perhaps have 
been long delayed without his quickening touch. The political map 
of Africa, as it now appears, and Is likely to appear for many genera- 
tions to come, was not the work of Stanley ; but without Stanley it 
would not have assumed Its present shape. His place is among those 
who have set the landmarks of nations and moulded their destinies. 

' When you conversed with him, at least in his later years, you 



396 HENRY M. STANLEY 

easily discovered that he had a firm grasp of the general sequence 
of European and Oriental history, and a considerable insight into 
modern ethnological and archaeological learning. He had formed 
independent and original ideas of his own on these subjects; and 
when he talked, as he sometimes would, of the Sabaeans and the 
Phoenicians, and the early Arab voyagers, you saw that, to the rapid 
observation of the man of action, he had added much of the system- 
atising and deductive faculty of the scholar. He possessed the 
instinct of arrangement, which is the foundation of all true scholar- 
ship, and perhaps of all great practical achievement as well. 

' His intellectual power was, I think, seldom appreciated at its 
true value. Its full measure is not given in his books, in spite of 
their vigorous style, their dramatic method of narration, and their 
brilliant pictorial passages; but nearly everything he wrote was in 
the nature of rather hurried journalism, the main object of which was 
to explain what had happened, or to describe what had been seen. 
Not in these graphic volumes, but in the achievements which gave 
rise to them, is Stanley's mental capacity made manifest. He was 
not only a born commander, prompt, daring, undaunted, irresist- 
ible, but also a great administrator, a great practical thinker. He 
thought out his problems with slow, thorough patience, examined 
every aspect of them, and considered all the possible alternatives, 
so that when the time came for action he knew what to do, and 
had no need to hesitate. His fiery, sudden deeds were more often 
the result of a long process of thought than of a rapid inspiration. 
The New York correspondent of the "Times," who knew him well, 
tells an illustrative story : — 

' "He and his whole party had embarked on Lake Tanganyika, 
knowing that the banks were peopled, some with friendly, some with 
hostile tribes. His canoes moved on at a respectful distance from the 
nearest shore. Sometimes the friendly people came off to sell their 
boat-loads of vegetables and fruit. "But suppose they were not 
friendly," said Stanley to himself, " then, what? " So one day there 
approached a fleet of canoes, with all the usual signs of friendly com- 
merce. They were piled high"with bananas. "I thought" (said 
Stanley) " they had a large supply, and the boats were deep in the 
water ; still, there was nothing that looked really suspicious. There 
were just men enough to paddle the canoes; no more. I let them 
come close, but I kept my eye on them, and my hand on the trigger 
of my elephant gun. They were but a. few yards off when I saw a 
heap of bananas stir. I fired instantly, and instantly the water was 
black with hundreds of armed black men who had been hidden 
beneath the banana-heaps. I do not think many of them got ashore. 
If I had stopped to think, they would have been aboard us, and it is 
we who should not have got ashore. But I had done my thinking 
before they came near." 

' Similarly he spoke of Gordon's end. " If," he said, " I had been 
sent to get the Khartoum garrison away, I should have thought of 



WORK IN REVIEW 397 

that and nothing else ; I should have calculated the chances, made 
out exactly what resistance I would have to encounter, and how it 
could be overcome, and laid all my plans with the single object of 
accomplishing my purpose." I believe, though he did not say so, 
that he thought the retreat could have been effected, or the town 
held, till the Relief Column arrived, if proper measures had been 
taken, and the one definite aim had been kept steadily in view all the 
time. That was his principle of action. When he had an object to 
fulfil, a commission to carry out, he could think of nothing else till 
the work was done. Difficulties, toil, hardships, sacrifices of all 
kinds, of time, of men, of money, were only incidents in the journey 
that led to a goal, to be reached if human endeavour could gain it. 
"No honour," he wrote, "no reward, however great, can be equal 
to the subtle satisfaction that a man feels when he can point to his 
work and say: " ' See, now, the task I promised you to perform with 
all loyalty and honesty, with might and main, to the utmost of my 
ability is, to-day, finished.' " This was the prime article in Stanley's 
confession of faith — to do the work to which he had set his hand, 
and in doing it, like Tennyson's Ulysses, — 

" To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield." 

' Both aspects of his character, the practical and the intellectual, 
were revealed in the two great expeditions of 1874 and 1879. The 
crossing of Africa, which began in the first year, was a marvellous 
performance in every way. Its results were immense, for it was the 
true opening of the Equatorial region, and added more to geogra- 
phical knowledge than any enterprise of the kind in the nineteenth 
century, or perhaps in any century. Great conquerors at the head 
of an army — an Alexander, or a Genghis Khan — may have done as 
much ; but no single individual revolutionised so large a tract of the 
earth's surface, with only a handful of armed men and a slender 
column of camp-followers and attendants. Wonderful, indeed, was 
the tour of the great lakes, the circumnavigation of the Victoria 
Nyanza, the conversion of King Mtesa of Uganda, the unveiling of 
the fertile, semi-civilised country, islanded for centuries in the ocean 
of African barbarism, which is now a British Protectorate, linked up 
with Charing Cross by rail and steamer. But the toilsome journey 
up from the East Coast was nothing to that which followed, when 
the party left Uganda and turned their faces to the Congo, resolved 
to follow the great river down to the sea. His gifts of leadership were 
at their highest in this memorable march, from the time that he left 
Nyangwe, in November, 1876, to his arrival at Boma, near the 
Congo estuary, in August, 1877. He had to be everything by turn 
in this space of ten eventful months — strategist, tactician, geo- 
grapher, medical superintendent, trader, and diplomatist. There 
were impracticable native chiefs to be conciliated, the devious 
designs of that formidable Arab potentate, Tippu-Tib, to be pene- 
trated and countered, inexorably hostile savages to be beaten off by 



398 HENRY M. STANLEY 

hard fighting. The expedition arrived at Boma, a remnant of toil- 
worn men, weakened by disease, and very nearly at the point of 
starvation. Stanley's white companions had perished, and his native 
contingent had suffered heavily ; but the allotted task was accom- 
plished, and the silent pledge, registered by Livingstone's grave, had 
been fulfilled. 

' It was this famous journey — the most remarkable, if judged by 
its results, in the whole history of African travel — which placed 
Stanley's reputation as a leader and discoverer on the highest pin- 
nacle. It was not an unassailed reputation. Much was said about 
his high-handed methods, and many good people in England, 
those 

" Good people, who sit still in easy chairs, 
And damn the general world for standing up," 

chose to regard him as a sort of filibuster. They contrasted his 
methods with those of some of his predecessors and contemporaries, 
who had contrived to spend years in Africa without fighting and 
bloodshed; but they did not allow for the difference in the condi- 
tions. Most of the other travellers had been the sport of circum- 
stances. They had wandered from place to place, turned from their 
course, again and again, by hostile tribes and churlish chiefs. They 
found out a great deal, but not, as a rule, that which they came to 
find. Their discoveries were largely accidental; even Livingstone 
was constantly deflected from his route, and was unable to pursue to 
its conclusion the plan of tracing the central watershed which he had 
set before himself. Stanley had a perfectly definite purpose, which 
he determined to carry out ; and he succeeded. His scheme involved 
passing through an immense region, inhabited by a comparatively 
numerous population, of a higher type than those encountered 
nearer the coast, more energetic and more warlike. As a rule, he 
made his way among them by bargain and negotiation ; but, some- 
times, he had to fight or to turn back; and he accepted the sterner 
alternative. If he had refused to do so, he could not have reached 
his goal. The expedition might still have added enormously to the 
sum of scientific knowledge, but in the achievement of its ultimate 
and clearly-conceived object it would have been a failure. Stanley 
did not mean that it should fail ; he was always ready to sacrifice 
himself, and when necessary he was prepared, as great men who do 
great deeds must be, to sacrifice others. But there was never the 
smallest justification for representing him as a ruthless, iron-handed 
kind of privateer on land, who used the scourge and the bullet with 
callous recklessness. There was nothing reckless about Stanley, 
except, at times, his speech. In action, he was swift and bold, but 
not careless. 

' To inflict superfluous suffering, to shoot and slay without think- 
ing of the consequences — this was utterly alien to his systematic, 
calculating methods. He would do it, if there seemed no other 
means of gaining the end, as a general would order a column to 



WORK IN REVIEW 399 

destruction to save his army and win a victory. But he was essen- 
tially a humane man, masterful and domineering, and yet, aufond, 
gentle and kindly, particularly to the weak and suffering. Opposi- 
tion stiffened the obstinate will to resistance; he was not a safe 
person to thwart, even in small matters. He remembered a benefit, 
and he did not forget an injury. It was said that he was unforgiving, 
and, perhaps, there was something in the charge. In his intense, 
self-contained nature wounds rankled long ; and he had little of that 
talent for oblivion which is so easily developed among comfortable 
people, whose emotions and experiences have never been poignant 
enough to disturb their peace of mind. 

' One who knew Stanley well, and studied him with an eye at once 
penetrating and friendly, believed that through life he bore the 
characteristic traces of his Cymric origin. He had the Welsh peas- 
ant's quickness of temper, his warmth of affection, his resentfulness 
when wronged, his pugnacity, and his code of ethics, ultimately 
derived from John Calvin. Welsh Protestantism is based on a con- 
scientious study of the biblical text. Stanley carried his Bible with 
him through life, and he read it constantly; but I should imagine 
that he was less affected by the New Testament than by the pro- 
phetic and historical books of the Hebraic scriptures. He believed 
profoundly in the Divine ordering of the world ; but he was equally 
assured that the Lord's Will was not fulfilled by mystical dreams, 
or by weak acquiescence in any wrong-doing that could be evaded 
by energetic action. With Carlyle, he held that strength is based on 
righteousness, and that the strong should inherit the earth ; and 
saw no reason why there should be any undue delay in claiming the 
inheritance. ' ' The White Man's Burden" could not be shirked, and 
should, on the contrary, be promptly and cheerfully shouldered. 

' " It is useless " (he wrote, having in view the American Indians) 
"to blame the white race for moving across the continent in a con- 
stantly-increasing tide. If we proceed in that manner, we shall 
presently find ourselves blaming Columbus for discovering America, 
and the Pilgrim Fathers for landing on Plymouth Rock ! The whites 
have done no more than follow the law of their nature and being." 

' He had his own idea about prayer. A man, he thought, ought to 
lay his supplications before the Throne of the Universe ; and he at- 
tached great value to prayers for deliverance from danger and dis- 
tress. But the answer was not to be expected by way of a miracle. 
The true response is in the effect on the suppliant himself, in the 
vigour and confidence it gives to his spirit, and the mental exaltation 
and clearness it produces. That was Stanley's opinion; and he had 
no great respect for the martyrs, who yielded to their fate with 
prayer, when they might have averted it by action. 

'The crossing of Africa was Stanley's premier achievement as a 
leader of men. The founding of the Congo State revealed him as 
a great administrator and organiser. It was a wonderful piece of 
management, a triumph of energy, resource, and hard work. Here 



400 HENRY M. STANLEY 

it was that Stanley earned the title which, I think, gave him more 
satisfaction than the belated G. C. B., conferred on him towards 
the end of his life. The natives called him "Bula Matari," which, 
being interpreted, means " the Breaker of Rocks" — an appellation 
bestowed upon him by the brown-skinned villagers as they watched 
the sturdy explorer toiling, bare-armed, under the fierce African 
sun, with axe or hammer in hand, showing his labourers, by example 
and precept, how to make the road from Vivi to Isangela, which 
bridged the cataracts of the Lower Congo, and opened the way to 
the upper reaches of the river. 

'The founding of the Congo State can be compared with the 
achievements of the two other great enterprises of our own time, 
which have converted vast tracts of primitive African savagery 
into organised states under civilised administration. But Stanley's 
task was heavier than that of the pioneers of Rhodesia, and the 
creators of Nigeria. The sphere of his operations was longer; the 
native populations were more numerous and more utterly untouched 
by external influences other than those of the Arab slave-raiders; 
the climatic and physical obstacles were more severe ; he had for- 
eign opposition to contend with from without, and many difficulties 
with the pedantry, the obstinacy, and the greed of some of the offi- 
cials sent out to him by his employers. Yet in the short space of five 
years the work was done! The Congo was policed, surveyed, placed 
under control. A chain of stations was drawn along its banks ; syste- 
matic relations had been established with the more powerful native 
potentates ; an elaborate political and commercial organisation had 
been established ; the transport difficulties had been overcome, and 
the whole region thrown open to trade under the complicated and 
careful regulations which Stanley had devised. It was no fault of 
Stanley's if the work has been badly carried on by his successors, 
and if the Congo State, under a regime of Belgian officials, not al- 
ways carefully selected, has not, so far, fulfilled the promise of its 
inception. So long as Stanley was in Africa, no disaster occurred; 
there was no plundering of the natives, and no savage reprisals. If 
he had been permitted to remain a few years longer, the advance of 
the Congo State might have been more rapid, particularly if he could 
have been seconded by subordinates with a higher inherited ca- 
pacity for ruling inferior races than Belgians could be expected to 
possess. It was a cause of regret to him, I believe, that England did 
not take a larger share in this international enterprise. 

' But England for long ignored or belittled the work that Stanley 
did. It was not till public opinion, throughout the Anglo-Saxon and 
Latin world, had acclaimed him a hero, that the governing element 
recognised something of his greatness; and, to the very last, its recog- 
nition was guarded and grudging. One might have supposed that his 
services would have been enlisted for the Empire in 1884, when he 
came back from the Congo. He was in the prime of life, he was full 
of vigour, he had proved his capacity as a leader, a ruler, and a 



WORK IN REVIEW 401 

governor, who had few living equals. One thinks that employment 
worthy of his powers should have been pressed upon him. But the 
country which left Burton to eat out his fiery heart in a second-rate 
consulship, and never seemed to know what to do with Gordon, 
could not find a suitable post for Stanley! I do not imagine he 
sought anything of the kind ; but it seems strange that it was not 
offered, and on such terms that he would have found it difficult to 
refuse. 

' If he had been entrusted with some worthy imperial commission, 
he might have been saved from the fifth, and least fortunate, of 
his journeys into the interior of Africa. Nothing that Stanley ever 
did spoke more loudly for his courage, his resourcefulness, and his 
heroic endurance, than the expedition for the Relief of Emin Pasha. 
None but a man of his iron resolution could have carried through 
those awful marches and counter-marches in the tropical forest, 
and along the banks of the Aruwimi. But the suffering and pri- 
vations were incurred for an inadequate object, and a cause not 
clearly understood. Many lives were lost, many brave men, white 
and black, perished tragically, to effect the rescue of a person who, it 
appeared, would, on the whole, have preferred not to be rescued ! 

* The journey from the Ocean to the Nile, and from the Nile to the 
East Coast, added much to geographical knowledge, and was the 
complement of Stanley's previous discoveries. But the cost was 
heavy, and the leader himself emerged with his health seriously 
impaired by the tremendous strain of those dark months. Most of 
his younger companions preceded him to the grave. Stanley sur- 
vived Nelson, Stairs, and Parke, as well as Barttelot and Jameson ; 
but the traces of the journey were upon him to the end, and no 
doubt they shortened his days. 

' Those days — that is to say, the fourteen years that were left 
to him after he returned to England in the spring of 1890 — were, 
however, full of activity, and, one may hope, of content. No other 
great task of exploration and administration was tendered; and 
perhaps, if offered, it could not have been accepted. But Stanley 
found plenty of occupation. He wrote, he lectured, and he assisted 
the King of the Belgians with advice on the affairs of his Depend- 
ency. He was in Parliament for five years, and he took some part in 
the discussion of African questions. More than all, he was mar- 
ried, most happily and fortunately married, and watched over, and 
ministered to, with tactful and tender solicitude. 

' The evening of that storm-tossed and strenuous life was calm and 
peaceful. Those who knew him only in these closing years saw him, 
I suppose, at his best, with something of the former nervous, self- 
assertive, vitality replaced by a mellow and matured wisdom. 
Whether there was much more than an external contrast between 
the Stanley of the earlier and him of the later period, I am unable 
to say ; but one may suggest that the change was in the nature of a 
development. 



402 HENRY M. STANLEY 

' Does any man's character really alter, after the formative season 
of youth is over? Traits, half-hidden, or seldom-revealed in the 
fierce stress of active conflict and labour, may come to the surface 
when the battling days are done. I cannot think that the serene 
sagacity, the gentleness, and the magnanimity, which one noted in 
Stanley in his last decade, could have been merely the fruit of leisure 
and domestic happiness. No doubt the strands were always in his 
nature, though perhaps not easily detected by the casual eye, so 
long as " the wrestling thews that throw the world " had to be kept 
in constant exercise. 

' In manner and appearance, and in other respects, he was the ab- 
solute antithesis of the type he sometimes represented to the general 
imagination. Short of stature, lean, and wiry, with a brown face, 
a strong chin, a square, Napoleonic head, and noticeable eyes, — 
round, lion-like eyes, watchful and kindly, that yet glowed with a 
hidden fire, — he was a striking and attractive personality ; but 
there was nothing in him to recall the iron-handed, swash -buckling, 
melodramatic adventurer, such as the pioneers of new countries 
are often supposed to be. The bravest of the brave, a very Ney or 
Murat among travellers, one knew that he was ; but his courage, one 
could see, was not of the unthinking, inconsequent variety, that 
would court danger for its own sake, without regard to life and suf- 
fering. What struck one most was that "high seriousness," which 
often belongs to men who have played a great part in great events, 
and have been long in close contact with the sterner reality of things. 
His temperament was intense rather than passionate, in spite of the 
outbursts of quick anger, which marked him, in his fighting period, 
when he was crossed or wronged. Much, far too much, was made of 
his "indiscretions" of language — as if strong men are not always 
indiscreet ! It is only the weaklings who make no mistakes, who are 
for ever decorous and prudent. 

' Much the same may be said of his early quarrel with the Royal 
Geographical Society. He did not find it easy to forgive that dis- 
tinguished body, when it signified its desire to make amends for the 
coldness with which it had first treated him, and for the ungenerous 
aspersions, which some of its members had cast upon his fame. 
They gave him a dinner, and made flattering speeches about the 
man who had succeeded. It was thought to be ungracious of Stanley 
that he would not make up the quarrel, until he had vindicated his 
own part of it by a bitter recital of hi§ grievances. But men who 
feel intensely, who have suffered deeply under unmerited injuries, 
and who have Stanley's defiant sense of justice, are not always so 
tactful and polite as the social amenities require. 

' As it was, the " indiscretions " for some years left a certain mark 
upon Stanley's reputation, and gave an easy handle to the cavillers 
and the hypercritical, and to the whole tribe of the purists, who are 
shocked because revolutions are not made with rose-water, or conti- 
nents conquered in kid gloves. Even after his triumph was acknow- 



WORK IN REVIEW 403 

ledged, after he had been honoured by princes, and had won his way 
to the tardy recognition of the Royal Geographical Society, there 
were "superior persons" to repeat that he was egotistical and in- 
human. 

' To his friends, both charges must have seemed absurd. Of per- 
sonal egotism, of mere vanity, he had singularly little. It needed a 
very obtuse observer to miss seeing that he was by nature simple, 
affectionate, and modest, with a wealth of kindness and generosity 
under his mantle of reserve. He had a sympathetic feeling tor xhe 
helpless, and the unfortunate — for animals, for the poor, and for 
the children of all races. On the march from Ruwenzori, distressed 
mothers of Emin's motley contingent would bring their babies to 
Stanley's own tent, knowing that " Bula Matari " would have halted 
the caravan sooner than needlessly sacrifice one of these quaint 
brown scraps of humanity. He would tell the story himself; and 
afterwards, perhaps, he would describe how he made up the con- 
nubial differences of some jangling couple of half-clad aboriginals! 

' His full and varied experiences were not easy to extract from 
him, for he disliked being " drawn," and preferred to talk on those 
larger, impersonal questions of politics, history, ethnology, and 
economics, in which he never ceased to be interested. But his 
friends were sometimes allowed to be entranced by some strange and 
stirring episode of African adventure, told with fine dramatic power, 
and relieved by touches of quiet humour. He was not a witty talker, 
but he had a fund of that amused tolerance which comes of com- 
prehending, and condoning, the weaknesses of human nature. It is 
a trait which goes far to explain his success in dealing with native 
races. 

* In the House of Commons he was not much at home. The at- 
mosphere of the place, physical and intellectual, disagreed with him. 
The close air and the late hours did not suit his health. " I am a 
man," he once said to the present writer, " who cannot stand waste." 
The Commons' House of Parliament, with its desultory, irregular 
ways, its dawdling methods, and its interminable outpourings of 
verbose oratory, must have seemed to him a gigantic apparatus for 
frittering away energy and time. He was glad to escape from St. 
Stephen's to the Surrey country home, in which he found much of 
the happiness of his later years. Here he drained, and trenched, and 
built, and planted ; doing everything with the same careful previ- 
sion, and economical adaptation of means to ends, which he had 
exhibited in greater enterprises. To go the round of his improve- 
ments with him was to gain some insight into the practical side of 
his character. 

' It was not the only, nor perhaps the highest, side. There was 
another, not revealed to the world at large, or to many persons, and 
the time has scarcely come to dwell upon it. But those who caught 
glimpses into a temple somewhat jealously veiled and guarded, did 
not find it hard to understand why it was that Stanley had never 



404 HENRY M. STANLEY 

failed to meet with devoted service and loyal attachment, through 
all the vicissitudes of the brilliant and adventurous career which has 
left its mark scored deep upon the history of our planet. 

'Sidney Low.' 

A further testimony to the importance of Stanley's discoveries 
was given by Sir William Garstin, G. C. M. G., in a paper read on 
December 15, 1908, before the Royal Geographical Society, on the 
occasion of the Fiftieth Anniversary of the discovery of the Source 
of the White Nile by Captain John Speke. 

' I now come,' said Sir William Garstin, 'to what is, perhaps, the 
most striking personality of all in the roll of the discoverers of the 
Nile, that of Henry Stanley. 

'Stanley on his second expedition, starting for the interior, on 
November 17, 1874, circumnavigated Lake Victoria, and corrected 
the errors of Speke's map as to its shape and area. 

' He visited the Nile outlet, and proved that the Nyanza was a 
single sheet of water, and not, as Burton had asserted, a series of 
small, separate lakes. 

' On arriving at Mtesa's capital, Stanley's acute mind quickly 
grasped the possibilities of Uganda as a centre for missionary enter- 
prise. He realised that, if he could succeed in interesting Great 
Britain in such a project, a most important departure would have 
been made in the direction of introducing European civilisation into 
Central Africa. 

' First came his appeal by letter, followed later by Stanley himself, 
whose eloquence aroused enthusiasm in the English public. A great 
meeting held in Exeter Hall, resulted in funds being raised, and the 
first party of English missionaries started for Uganda in the spring 
of 1876. 

' This, although not at the time realised, was in reality the first 
step towards the introduction of British rule in Equatorial Africa, 

' Stanley's last voyage, and in some respects, his greatest expedition, 
was undertaken for the relief of Emin Pasha, at that time cut off 
from communication with the outer world. The Relief Expedition 
started in 1887, under Stanley's leadership. This time Stanley 
started from the Congo, and, travelling up that river, struck east- 
ward into the Great Forest, which, covering many thousands of 
square miles, stretches across a portion of the Semliki Valley and 
up the western flank of Ruwenzori. 

' On emerging from the Forest, Stanley reached the Valley of the 
Semliki, and, in May, 1888, he discovered the mountain chain of 
Ruwenzori. 

' This discovery alone would have sufficed to have made his third 
journey famous. It was not all, however. After his meeting with 
Emin, he followed the Semliki Valley to the point where this river 
issues from the Albert Edward Nyanza. 

* Stanley was the first traveller to trace its course, and to prove that 



WORK IN REVIEW 405 

it connects two lakes and, consequently, forms a portion of the 
Nile system. 

' When skirting the north end of Lake Albert Edward, he recog- 
nised that he had really discovered this lake in his previous journey, 
although at the time unaware of this fact. 

' Stanley has thus cleared up the last remaining mystery with 
respect to the Nile sources. 

' It is impossible to exaggerate the importance of Stanley's work. 
The main facts regarding the sources of the Nile were finally re- 
vealed by him, and nothing was left for future explorers but to fill 
in the details. This was a magnificent achievement for one man to 
have compassed, and Stanley must always stand out as having done 
more than any other to clear up, and to correct, the errors in the 
geography of the Nile basin. Stanley not only completed thoroughly 
the work left unfinished by other explorers, but added largely to it 
by his own remarkable discoveries. To him also it was due that the 
first English Mission was despatched to Uganda. 

' Stanley's glowing accounts of the fertility of the land of the 
Baganda encouraged British commercial enterprise, and originated 
the formation of the East African Chartered Company. As we now 
know, the inevitable sequence was the English occupation of the 
country.' 

As to Stanley's African work, one or two features may here be 
specially noted. His master-passion was that, not of the discoverer, 
but of the civiliser. He had his own methods, but he was sympa- 
thetic and helpful toward other methods, and sometimes adopted 
them. To King Mtesa and his people, he took the part of a Chris- 
tian missionary with rare efficiency. When the time for his depart- 
ure came, Mtesa heard it with dismay, and asked : ' What is the use, 
then, of your coming to Uganda to disturb our minds, if, as soon as 
we are convinced that what you have said has right and reason in it, 
you go away before we are fully instructed?' 

Stanley answered that every man has his own business and call- 
ing, that his business was that of a pioneer and not of a religious 
teacher, but if the king wanted real instructors, he would write to 
England and ask for them. The king said, 'Then write, Stamlee' 
(the native pronunciation of the name) , ' and say to the white people 
that I am like a child sitting in darkness, and cannot see until I am 
taught the right way.' Thereupon followed the appeal to England, 
the prompt response, the planting of the mission, and the heroic 
story of the Uganda church triumphing over persecution and martyr- 
dom. When Stanley wrote the story for the ' Cornhill Magazine,' 
January, 1901, the Uganda people had built for themselves three 
hundred and seventy- two churches, with nearly 100,000 communi- 
cants, who were not fair-weather Christians. A week or two after 
Stanley's death, the great cathedral of Uganda was solemnly con- 
secrated, and opened for service. 



406 HENRY M. STANLEY 

Among these people whom Stanley visited, while taking Emin's 
refugees to safety in 1889, was the illustrious missionary A. M. 
Mackay, who had previously written, ' For a time the old gods 
of the land had to give way to the creed of Arabia, as the king saw 
something in that more likely to add prestige to his court than the 
charm-filled horns of the magic men, and frantic dance of the fore- 
tellers of fortune. Then came Stanley. Let his enemies scoff as they 
will, it is a fact indisputable that with his visit there commenced the 
dawn of a new era in the annals of the court of Uganda. The people 
themselves date from Stanley's day the commencement of leniency 
and law, in place of the previous reign of bloodshed and terror. 
"Since Stanley came," they say, " the king no more slaughters in- 
nocent people as he did before ; he no more disowns and disinherits 
in a moment an old and powerful chief, and sets up a puppet of his 
own, who was before only a slave." Compared with the former daily 
changes and cruelties, as the natives describe them, one cannot but 
feel thankful to God for the mighty change.' 

After the visit, Mackay writes: — 

' I must say that I much enjoyed Mr. Stanley's company during 
the short stay here. He is a man of an iron will and sound j udgement ; 
and, besides, is most patient with the natives. He never allows any 
one of his followers to oppress, or even insult, a native. If he has 
had occasionally to use force in order to effect a passage, I am cer- 
tain that he only resorted to arms when all other means failed.' 

Stanley recognised and appreciated in Mackay a spirit akin to 
Livingstone. He judged that he had dangerously overtaxed his 
strength, and urged him to go away with him and secure a rest. 
But Mackay would not leave his post, and within half a year he 
succumbed to disease.^ 

Did space permit, a chapter might well be given to Stanley's 
labours for African civilisation by means of addresses to the Eng- 
lish people, and his efforts, by lectures and personal interviews, to 
move the Government and the community to meet the successive 
calls for action. Had England responded to his appeal to take over the 
Congo region, the leadership, which was left to the Belgian sovereign, 
would have devolved on the British nation, and history would have 
had a different course. 

After the founding of the Congo Free State, Stanley went over the 
length and breadth of England to address meetings, urging the 
English people to build the Congo Railway. But again the deaf ear 
was turned to him. Now, the wealth to shareholders in that railway 
is prodigious. He also did his utmost to spur and persuade a laggard 
and indifferent Government to plant and foster English civilisa- 
tion in East Africa. He wanted not mere political control, but the 
efficient repression of the slave-trade, the advancement of mate- 
rial improvements, and especially the construction of railways to 

* In Darkest Africa, Stanley notes that 'Mr. Mackay, the best missionary since 
Livingstone, died about the beginning of February, 1890.' 



WORK IN REVIEW 407 

destroy the isolation which was ruinous to the interior. One lecture, 
entitled 'Uganda; a plea against its Evacuation,' is a masterpiece 
of large-minded wisdom, and true statesmanship. He spoke repeat- 
edly before Anti-slavery Societies on the practical means of attain- 
ing the great end. His influence with King Leopold was always 
used to hasten and complete the extirpation of the Arab slave-trade. 
From that curse Equatorial Africa was freed, and in its deliverance 
Stanley was the leader. 

Stanley constantly urged the vital importance of thoroughly 
training Medical Officers and Medical Missionaries in the know- 
ledge of Tropical diseases, and the necessity of the proper medical- 
equipment of expeditions and stations, and the considerate medical 
treatment of natives, as well as white men, for economic reasons, 
as well as on humanitarian grounds. 

From his own terrible experiences Stanley realised to the full the 
barrier which Malaria and other dread Tropical diseases imposed 
against the progress of civilisation and commercial enterprise in 
Africa ; and he followed with keen interest and hopefulness the dis- 
coveries of Sir Patrick Manson, and Major Ross, proving the mos- 
quito to be the host and carrier of the malarial parasite, and also 
the successful devices of these scientists for checking and reducing 
the death-toll from this scourge. 

He particularly applauded the great, far-seeing. Colonial Sec- 
retary, Joseph Chamberlain, for his practical measures, by which he 
had done more than any other Statesman to render the Tropical 
regions of the Empire habitable and healthy. 

Stanley's last public appearance was at a dinner to Dr. Andrew 
Balfour, on his appointment as Director of the Wellcome Tropical 
Research Laboratories, Gordon Memorial College, Khartoum, and, 
in the course of a very moving speech on the development of Africa 
since his first expedition, Stanley said that, at one time, he thought 
the Equatorial regions possible for the habitation of natives only, 
except in limited highlands; but now, thanks to the work of the 
London and Liverpool Schools of Tropical Medicine, and these Re- 
search Laboratories in the heart of Africa, the deadly plagues that 
harassed mankind were being conquered, and the whole of that Dark 
Continent might yet become a white man's land. 

One other trait of his African work may be mentioned. In a 
pecuniary sense, it was absolutely disinterested. He would never 
take the slightest personal advantage of the commercial opportuni- 
ties incident to the opening of the new countries, on the Congo, or 
in Uganda. / desire to emphasise the fact that such property as he had 
came almost entirely from his hooks and his lectures. He gave his 
assistance to the establishment of the British East African Company 
because he believed in its influence for good, but he declined any 
pecuniary interest. 

When the Congo Railway stock was paying very high dividends, 
he was asked why he did not take some of it, and he answered that 



4o8 HENRY M. STANLEY 

*he would not have even the appearance of personal profit out 
of Africa.' When princes and potentates made advantageous offers 
to him, they were quietly put aside. Once an English magnate in 
Africa, who had aggrandised England and enriched himself, asked 
playfully, ' Why don't yoM take some of the " corner lots " in Africa ? ' 
Stanley put the question by, and afterwards said : ' That way may 
be very well for him, but, for myself, I prefer my way.* 

When the retention of Uganda was under discussion. Lord Salis- 
bury said publicly: *It is natural that Mr. Stanley should favour 
the retention, for we all know that he has interests in Africa.' 
Stanley took the earliest occasion to say publicly; *It is true, but 
not in the sordid sense in which the imputation has been made ; 
my whole interest there is for Africa herself, and for humanity.' 




HENRY M. STANLEY, 1890, ON HIS RETURN FROM AFRICA 



CHAPTER XIX 
EUROPE AGAIN 

THERE was a charm attached to the Great Forest that 
was only revealed to me after it had dropped beyond 
the horizon. I had found that a certain amount of 
determination was necessary to enter it. 

The longer I hesitated, the blacker grew its towering walls, 
and its aspect more sinister. My imagination began to eat 
into my will and consume my resolution. But when all the 
virtue in me rose in hot indignation against such pusillanimity. 
I left the pleasant day, and we entered as into a tomb, I found 
it difficult to accustom myself to its gloom and its pallid soli- 
tude. I could find no comfort for the inner man, or solace for 
the spirit. It became impressed on me that it was wholly unfit 
for gregarious man, who loves to see something that apper- 
tains to humanity in his surroundings. A man can look into 
the face of the Sun and call him Father, the Moon can be 
compared to a mistress, the Stars to souls of the dear departed, 
and the Sky to our Heavenly Home ; but when man is sunk in 
the depths of a cold tomb, how can he sing, or feel glad ? 

After I had got well out of it, however, and had been warmed 
through and through by the glowing sun, and was near being 
roasted by it, so that the skyey dome reminded me of a burn- 
ing hot oven, and the more robustious savages of the open 
country pestered us with their darts, and hemmed us round 
about, day and night, then it dawned upon my mind that, in 
my haste, I had been too severe in my condemnation of the 
Forest. I began to regret its cool shade, its abundant streams, 
its solitude, and the large acquaintance I made with our own 
ever-friendly selves, with whom there was never any quarrel- 
ling, and not a trace of insincere affection. 

I was reminded of this very forcibly when I descended from 
the Suez train, and entered Cairo. My pampered habits of 
solitary musing were outraged, my dreaming temper was 
shocked, my air-castles were ruthlessly demolished, and my 



410 HENRY M. STANLEY 

illusions were rudely dispelled. The fashionables of Cairo, in 
staring at me every time I came out to take the air, made me 
uncommonly shy ; they made me feel as if something was radi- 
cally wrong about me, and I was too disconcerted to pair with 
any of them, all at once. They had been sunning without in- 
terruption in the full blaze of social life, and I was too fresh 
from my three years' meditations in the wilds. 

If any of the hundreds I met chanced to think kindly of me 
at this period, it was certainly not because of any merit of my 
own, but because of their innate benevolence and ample con- 
siderateness. I am inclined to think, however, that I made 
more enemies than friends, for it could scarcely be otherwise 
with an irreflective world. To have escaped their censure, I 
ought to have worn a parchment band on my forehead, bear- 
ing the inscription: 'Ladies and gentlemen, I have been in 
Darkest Africa for three continuous years, living among sav- 
ages, and I fear something of their spirit clings to me ; so I 
pray you have mercy.' 

Indeed, no African traveller ought to be judged during the 
first year of his return. He is too full of his own reflections ; he 
is too utterly natural ; he must speak the truth, if he dies for 
it ; his opinions are too much his own. Then, again, his vitals 
are wholly disorganised. He may appear plump enough, but 
the plumpness is simply the effect of unhealthy digestion ; his 
stomach, after three years' famishing, is contracted, and the 
successive feasts to which he is invited speedily become his 
bane. His nerves are not uniformly strung, and his mind harks 
back to the strange scenes he has just left, and cannot be on 
the instant focussed upon that which interests Society. To 
expect such a man to act like the unconscious man of the 
world, is as foolish as to expect a fashionable Londoner to win 
the confidence of naked Africans. We must give both time to 
recover themselves, or we shall be unjust. 

To avoid the lounging critics that sat in judgement upon 
me at Shepheard's Hotel, I sought a retired spot, the Villa 
Victoria, surrounded by a garden, where, being out of sight, I 
might be out of mind. There was also an infectious sickness 
prevailing that season in London, and my friends thought it 
better that I should wait warmer weather. I reached Cairo in 
the middle of January, 1890, and, until the beginning of Feb- 



EUROPE AGAIN 411^ 

ruary, I toyed with my pen. I could not, immediately, dash 
off two consecutive sentences that were readable. A thousand 
scenes floated promiscuously through my head, but, when 
one came to my pen-point, it was a farrago of nonsense, in- 
coherent, yet confusedly intense. Then the slightest message 
from the outside world led me astray, like a rambling butter- 
fly. What to say first, and how to say it, was as disturbing 
as a pathless forest would be to a man who had never stirred 
from Whitechapel. My thoughts massed themselves into a 
huge organ like that at the Crystal Palace, from which a 
master-hand could evoke Handel's 'Messiah,' or Wagner's 
'Walkiire,' but which to me would only give deep discords. 

The days went by, and I feared I should have to relegate 
my book to the uncertain future. At last I started on the 
'Forest' chapter, the writing of which relieved me of the 
acuter feeling. Then I began the * March from Yambuya' ; 
and, presently, I warmed to the work, flung off page after 
page, and never halted until I had reached ' The Albert.' The 
Stronger emotions being thus relieved, I essayed the beginning, 
and found by the after-reading that I was not over-fantastic, 
and had got into the swing of narrative. I continued writing 
from ten to fifty pages of manuscript during a day, from six 
in the morning until midnight; and, having re-written the 
former chapters with more method, was able on the eighty- 
fifth day to write 'Finis' to the record of the journey. 

I think the title of it was a happy one — 'In Darkest 
Africa, or the Quest, Rescue, and Return of Emin Pasha.' It 
was the choice out of more than fifty taking titles on the same 
subject, but none of them was so aptly descriptive of the 
theme. Since then, some dozen or so book-titles have been 
founded on it, such as 'Darkest England,' 'Darkest London,' 
'Darkest New York,' 'Darkest Russia,' etc., etc. It was the 
custom for Germans, Anglo-Germans, Philo^Germans, etc., 
etc., for some three or four years later, to print the word 
^Rescue' with quotation marks, which signified, of course, 
' so-called' ; but if the word is not absolutely truthful, I know 
not what is true. 

Emin was rescued from being either sold to the Mahdists, 
or killed by Fadle Mullah, or perishing through some stupid 
act of his own ; and, so long as he was in the British camp, he 



412 HENRY M. STANLEY 

was safe. The very day he was kissed by his countrymen, 
he was doomed to fall, and he nearly cracked his poor head. 
When they placed power in his hands, they sent him to his 
death. 

Though not secure from interruptions at the Villa Victoria, 
I could, at least, make my selection of the visitors who called. 
Might I have been as safe from the telegraph and mails, I 
should have been fairly comfortable ; but my telegrams were 
numerous, and letters arrived sometimes by the hundred. The 
mere reading of the correspondence entailed a vast loss of time, 
the replies to them still more, and occupied the best efforts of 
three persons. What with a tedious sitting for my portrait, 
visits, interviews, dining-out, telegraphic and postal corre- 
spondence, calls of friends, instructions to the artist for the 
book, and revisions of my MS., it appears to me wonderful 
that I was able to endure the strain of writing half a million of 
words, and all else ; but, thank Goodness ! by the middle of 
April, the book was out of my hands, and I was alive and free. 

From Cairo, I proceeded to Cannes, to consult with Sir 
William Mackinnon about East Africa, and explain about 
German aggressiveness in that region. Thence I moved to 
Paris; and, not many days later, I was in Brussels, where I 
was received with a tremendous demonstration of military 
and civilian honours. All the way to the royal palace, where 
I was to be lodged, the streets were lined with troops, and 
behind these was the populace shouting their 'vivas ! ' It ap- 
peared to me that a great change had come over Belgian pub- 
lic opinion about the value of the Congo. Before I departed 
for Africa, the Belgian journals were not in favour of Africa. 
But now, all was changed, and the King was recognised as 
'the great benefactor of the nation.' While I was the guest of 
His Majesty, state, municipal, and geographical receptions fol- 
lowed fast upon one another ; and at each of the assemblages 
I was impressed with the enthusiasm of the nation for the 
grand African domain secured to it by the munificence of their 
royal statesman and sovereign. Besides gold and silver medals 
from Brussels and Antwerp, the King graciously conferred on 
me the Grand Cross of the Order of Leopold, and the Grand 
Cross of the Congo. 

Every morning, however, between 10.30 and 12, the King 



EUROPE AGAIN 413 

led me into his private room, to discuss questions of absorbing 
interest to both of us. Since 1878, I had repeatedly endeav- 
oured to impress on His Majesty the necessity of the rail- 
way, for the connection of the Lower with the Upper Congo, 
without which it was impossible to hope that the splendid 
sacrifices he proposed to make, or had made, would ever bear 
fruit. In 1885-86, I had been one of the principal agents in 
the promotion of an English Company for the construction 
of the Royal Congo Railway ; but my efforts were in vain. 
Now, however, the King expressed his assurance that the 
time was ripe for the Belgian nation to construct the line, 
and he was pleased to say that it was my success which had 
produced this feeling, and that the welcome extended to 
me was a proof of it. I would have been better pleased if His 
Majesty had expressed his determination to economise in 
other directions, and devote his energies to the railway. 

The next subject was the suppression of the slave-trade in 
the Congo. I proposed that troops should be pushed up the 
Congo, and that posts should be established at the mouths of 
the Aruwimi and Lumami, and that the garrisons should be 
increased month by month, until about two thousand troops 
had been collected, when an onward movement should be 
made against Stanley Falls, and the Arab power be summarily 
broken. 

As this would be a signal of resolute action against all the 
Arabs above the Falls, about thirty steel boats should be pro- 
vided, to enable the war to be carried up the Lualaba ; for there 
would be no peace for the State, until every slaver in the Congo 
State had been extirpated or disarmed. I explained the pro- 
ject in great detail, and urged it vehemently, as after the 
treachery of Tippu-Tib in the Forest region, it was useless 
to hope that any other method would prevail. His Majesty 
promised cordial assent to the plan, and promised that the 
orders should be issued at once for the building of the boats. 

The next subject debated was the better delimitation of the 
Congo State to the east. I proposed that instead of the vague 
and uncertain line of East longitude 30, the boundary between 
British territory and the Congo State should be the centre of 
the Albert Edward Nyanza and the course of the Semliki 
River, by which the parting of tribes would be avoided. The 



414 HENRY M. STANLEY 

benefits to both England and the State would be that, while 
the whole of the snowy range of Ruwenzori, intact, would 
belong to England, the Congo State would be extended to the 
Albert Nyanza. In size, the exchanged territories would be 
about equal in area. His Majesty appeared pleased with the 
idea, and expressed his willingness to negotiate the exchange 
of territories with the East African Company. 

The King introduced the third subject himself, by express- 
ing his desire to know what point was tne best to occupy as a 
central post along the Northern frontier between France and 
the Congo State. I unhesitatingly pointed out the confluence 
of the Mbornu with the Welle-Mubangi, but that to supply 
such a distant station would require a large number of steel 
whale-boats, such as Forrest & Son, of London, had made 
for me. 

Then he wished to know how the North-eastern frontier 
could be defended. I replied that a clever officer would find no 
difficulty in establishing himself within easy reach of Mak- 
raka, and holding out inducements to the former Makraka 
soldiers of Emin, many of whom would be glad of a refuge 
against the Mahdists. At these private receptions His Majesty 
is accustomed to sit with his back to the window, on one side 
of a large marble-topped table, while his visitor sits on the 
other side. The table is well furnished with writing-paper, ink, 
pens, and pencils. Three years and a quarter had passed since 
I was in the room, where I had been fifty times before, prob- 
ably ; nothing had changed except ourselves. The King's beau- 
tiful brown beard had, in the interval, become grey from ear 
to ear ; while my hair, which had been iron-grey, was now as 
white as Snowdon in winter. 

I made a smiling reference to the changes Time had wrought 
in us since we had first met in June, 1878, and discussed the 
possibilities of introducing civilisation on the Congo. 

The King began by saying thaf my visit to Brussels was 
sure to be followed by great results. He was very certain of 
being able to get the Congo Railway started now; for the 
Belgian people were thoroughly roused up, and were even 
enthusiastic. He said my letters from Africa and my present 
visit had caused this change. My description of the Forest 
had fired their imagination ; and the people seemed to be about 



EUROPE AGAIN 415 

as eager to begin the railway as they were previously back- 
ward, indifferent, even hostile. The railway shares had been 
nearly all taken up, etc., etc. 

'Now, Mr. Stanley,' said he, 'you have put me under still 
further obligations, by pointing out how slave-raiding can be 
stopped ; you have also suggested how we could transform 
slave-raiders into policemen, which is a splendid idea ; and, 
finally, you have indicated how we are to protect our fron- 
tiers and make use of Emin's troops, as soldiers in the service 
of the State.' 

We now discussed the value of the country between the 
Congo and Lake Albert. He listened to what I said with the 
close attention of one who was receiving an account of a great 
estate that had just fallen to him, of which, previously, he had 
but a vague knowledge. 

I said that from the mouth of the Aruwimi to within fifty 
miles of Lake Albert, the whole country, from 4° S., to about 
3° N., was one dense tropical forest, and that its area was 
about equal to France and Spain put together. 

' Does the Forest produce anything that is marketable in 
Europe?' 

'Well, Sire, I suppose that when elephants have been ex- 
terminated in all other parts of Africa, there will still be some 
found in that Forest, so that the State will always be able to 
count upon some quantity of ivory, especially if the State has 
kindly set aside a reservation for them to retreat to, and for- 
bidden the indiscriminate slaughter of these animals. Such a 
reservation will also be useful for the pigmies and other wild 
creatures of the forest. But the principal value of the Forest 
consists in the practically inexhaustible supply of valuable and 
useful timber which it will yield. You have a great source of 
revenue in this immense store of giant trees, when the Congo 
Railway enables timber merchants to build their saw-mills on 
the banks of the many tributaries and creeks which pierce it. 
The cotton-wood, though comparatively soft, will be adapted 
for cargo barges, because it is as unsinkable as cork, and will 
be useful for transporting down the Congo the mahogany, 
teak, greenheart, and the hard red and yellow woods. 

' I think the timber-yards at Stanley Pool will be a sight to 
see, some few years hence. Then, for local purposes, the Forest 



4i6 HENRY M. STANLEY 

will be valuable for furnishing materials for building all the 
houses in the Congo Valley, and for making wooden tram-lines 
across the portages of the many rivers. The Concessionaires 
will also find the rubber produce of the forest highly profitable. 
Almost every branchy tree has a rubber parasite clinging to it ; 
as we carved our way through the Forest our clothes were 
spoiled by the rain of juice which fell on us. As there are so 
many rivers and creeks in the Forest, accessible by boats, and 
as along the Congo itself, for some hundreds of miles, the 
woods come down and overhang the water, a well-organised 
company will be able to collect several tons, annually, of rub- 
ber. When rubber is, even now, two shillings per pound,^ you 
can estimate what the value of this product alone will be, 
when the industry has been properly developed. 

* With every advance into the Forest, the gummy exudations 
will also be no mean gain. Every land-slip along the rivers 
discloses a quantity of precious fossil-gum, which floats down 
the streams in large cakes. Experience will teach the Conces- 
sionaires when and how to hunt for this valuable article of 
commerce. I am inclined to think, in fact, that the Great For- 
est will prove as lucrative to the State as any other section, 
however fertile the soil and rich its produce. 

' No one can travel up the Congo without being struck by the 
need of the saw-mill, and how numerous and urgent are the 
uses of sawn timber for the various stations which are being 
erected everywhere. 

' If you had saw-mills established now on the Aruwimi, 
they could not produce planking fast enough to satisfy all 
demands, and what a help for the railway hard-wood sleep- 
ers would be ! ' 

I was then questioned as to the tribes of the Forest, and had 
to explain that as the experiences of these unsophisticated 
aborigines with strangers had been most cruel, it would not do 
to be too sanguine about their ability to supply labour at first 
demand. 'But,' I said, *I came across no tribe, excepting the 
pigmies, which, after two years' acquaintance with the white 
man, could not be brought to a right sense of the value of their 
muscle. If a station were built in any part of the Forest, the 

* The market-price of rubber is now (July, 1909) quoted at four shillings and six- 
pence per pound. — D. S. 



EUROPE AGAIN 417 

tribe in its neighbourhood might be induced by patient and 
fair treatment to become serviceable in a short time ; but the 
other tribes would remain as aloof as ever, until they had the 
same opportunities of intimately knowing the white strangers. 
As the Forest is so dense, and so many miles of untrodden 
woods separate the tribes, it will be a long time before all the 
people will be tamed fit for employment. Good roads through 
the Forest, gentle treatment of the natives employed, and fair 
wages to them, will tend to hasten the white man's good influ- 
ence ; for rumour spreads rapidly ; in a mysterious way good, 
as well as evil, news travels ; and every month will show a per- 
ceptible increase in the numbers of those natives desirous of 
associating themselves with the white strangers.' 

When the King asked me about the people of the grass- 
lands near the lakes, he was much interested at hearing, how, 
from enemies, formidable by their numbers and courage, they 
had become my allies, carriers, servants, and most faithful 
messengers. His Majesty was much impressed by this, and I 
told him how I had been affected by their amiability and good 
service ; to any one listening to the warm praise I gave the 
Mazamboni and Kavallis, I might have appeared to exag- 
gerate their good qualities ; but His Majesty is so generous- 
minded that he could appreciate the frank way in which they 
had confessed their error in treating us as enemies, and the 
ready way in which they had atoned for it. 

I showed the King that the grass-lands were not so distant 
from the Congo as my painful and long journey through the 
Forest had made them appear. ' Without any great cost it will 
be possible for the State to send expeditions to Lake Albert 
from the Congo within ten days. For, when saw-mills have 
been established at Yambuya, a wooden tram-line, topped by 
light steel bars, may be laid very easily along the Aruwimi, 
over which a small engine, drawing five trucks, could travel 
five miles an hour, or sixty miles a day. But before this tram- 
line will be possible, the railway to Stanley Pool must be 
finished, by which the resources of civilisation, saw-mills, tools, 
engines, boats, provisions, will be brought thirteen hundred 
miles nearer the lakes than they are now.' 

After this, we adjourned to lunch, etc., etc. 

A few weeks later, the King came over to London ; and, after 



4i8 HENRY M. STANLEY 

a talk with Lord Salisbury and the principal Directors of the 
East African Company, whereby the boundaries between their 
respective territories were agreed to be the Albert, and Albert 
Edward, and the course of the river Semliki, from the centre of 
the southern shore of the Albert Edward to the northern head 
of the Tanganyika Lake, a strip of ten miles in width was se- 
cured to Great Britain for free transit,^ with all powers of juris- 
diction. Sir William Mackinnon and myself were the signato- 
ries duly empowered.^ In my opinion, the advantages of this 
Treaty were on the side of the British, as there was now a free 
broad line of communications between Cape Town and Brit- 
ish Equatoria, while my own secret hopes of the future of the 
Ruwenzori range were more likely to be gratified by its acqui- 
sition by the English, because, once the railway reached within 
a reasonable distance of the Snowy Mountains, a certain beau- 
tiful plateau — commanding a view of the snow-peaks, the plain 
of Usongora, the Lake Albert Edward, and the Semliki Valley 
— must become the site of the future Simla of Africa. On 
the other hand, the King was pleased with the extension of 
his territory to the Albert Nyanza, chough the advantages 
are more sentimental than real. The narrow pasture-land be- 
tween the Great Forest and the lake may become inhabited by 
whites, in which case the ninety-mile length of the Nyanza 
may be utilized for steamboat communication between the 
two ends of it. 

As Monsieur Vankherchoven, King Leopold's agent, was by 
this time well on his way to the confluence of the headwaters of 
the Welle-Mubangi, the conclusion of this Treaty necessitated 
a slight change in his instructions. 

On arriving in England, April 26, 1890, I was met by a 
large number of friends at Dover, who escorted me on a special 
train to London. At Victoria Station a large crowd was assem- 
bled, who greeted me most warmly. The Baroness Burdett- 
Coutts and Mr. Burdett-Coutts had done me the honour of 
meeting me with their carriage, and in brief time I found 

* The Cape-to-Cairo Route, on all-British territory, thus anticipated by Stanley, 
and rendered feasible by this Treaty, was lost to England owing to the weakness of the 
Liberal Government of the day, who were actually "bluffed" into cancelling the 
Treaty by German pressure. 

^ See In Darkest Africa, vol. ii. 



EUROPE AGAIN 419 

myself in comfortable rooms at De Vere Gardens, which had 
been engaged and prepared for me by Sir Francis and Lady 
De Win ton. 

For the next three or four weeks, proof-reading and revis- 
ing, banquets, preparing lectures, etc., absorbed far more time 
than was good for my health. Two of the most notable Recep- 
tions were by the Royal Geographical Society and the Emin 
Relief Committee ; the first, at the Albert Hall, was by far the 
grandest Assembly I ever saw. About ten thousand people 
were present ; Royalty, the Peerage, and all classes of Society 
were well represented. While Sir Mountstuart Grant-Duff, 
the President, was speaking, my eyes lighted on many a 
noble senator, chief of science, and prince in literature, whose 
presence made me realise the supreme honour accorded 
to me. 

At the house of my dear wife-to-be, I met the ex-Premier, 
the Right Honourable Mr. W. E. Gladstone, who had come 
for a chat and a cup of tea, and to be instructed — as I had 
been duly warned — about one or two matters connected 
with the slave-trade. I had looked forward to the meeting 
with great interest, believing — deluded fool that I was ! — 
that a great politician cares to be instructed about anything 
but the art of catching votes. I had brought with me the 
latest political map of East Africa, and, when the time had 
come, I spread it out conveniently on the table before the 
great man, at whose speaking face I gazed with the eyes of an 
African. 'Mr. Gladstone,' said I, intending to be brief and to 
the point, as he was an old man, 'this is Mombasa, the chief 
port of British East Africa. It is an old city. It is mentioned 
in the Lusiads, and, no doubt, has been visited by the Phoeni- 
cians. It is most remarkable for its twin harbours, in which 
the whole British Navy might lie safely, and — ' 

'Pardon me,' said Mr. Gladstone, 'did you say it was 
a harbour?' 

'Yes, sir,' said I, 'so large that a thousand vessels could 
be easily berthed in it.' 

'Oh, who made the harbour?' he asked, bending his im- 
posing glance at me. 

'It is a natural harbour,' I answered. 

'You mean a port, or roadstead?' 



420 HENRY M. STANLEY 

'It is a port, certainly, but it is also a harbour, that, by 
straightening the bluffs, you — ' 

'But pardon me, a harbour is an artificial construction.* 

* Excuse me, sir, a dock is an artificial construction, but a 
harbour may be both artificial and natural, and — * 

'Well, I never heard the word applied in that sense.* And 
he continued, citing Malta and Alexandria, and so on. 

This discussion occupied so much time that, fearing I should 
lose my opportunity of speaking about the slave-trade, I 
seized the first pause, and skipping about the region between 
Mombasa and Uganda, I landed him on the shores of the 
Nyanza, and begged him to look at the spacious inland sea, 
surrounded by populous countries, and I traced the circling 
lands. When I came to Ruwenzori, his eye caught a glimpse 
of two isolated peaks. 

'Excuse me one minute,' said he; 'what are those two 
mountains called?' 

'Those, sir,' I answered, 'are the Gordon Bennett and the 
Mackinnon peaks.' 

'Who called them by those absurd names?' he asked, 
with the corrugation of a frown on his brow. 

'I called them, sir.* 

'By what right?' he asked. 

* By the right of first discovery, and those two gentlemen 
were the patrons of the expedition.' 

'How can you say that, when Herodotus spoke of them 
twenty-six hundred years ago, and called them Crophi and 
Mophi? It is intolerable that classic names like those should 
be displaced by modern names, and — ' 

'I humbly beg your pardon, Mr. Gladstone, but Crophi 
and Mophi, if they ever existed at all, were situated over a 
thousand miles to the northward. Herodotus simply wrote 
from hearsay, and — * 

'Oh, I can't stand that.* 

'Well, Mr. Gladstone,' said I, 'will you assist me in this 
project of a railway to Uganda, for the suppression of the 
slave-trade, if I can arrange that Crophi and Mophi shall 
be substituted in place of Gordon Bennett and Mackin- 
non?' 

'Oh, that will not do; that is flat bribery and corruption' ; 



EUROPE AGAIN 421 

and, smiling, he rose to his feet, buttoning his coat lest his 
virtue might yield to the temptation. 

'Alas !' said I to myself, 'when England is ruled by old men 
and children ! My slave-trade discourse must be deferred, I 
see.* 

Turning now to the extraordinary charges made against me, 
on my return to Europe, that I deliberately employed slaves 
on my expedition, I would point out that every traveller, 
before setting out on his journey, took all precautions to 
avoid doing this. Each of my followers was obliged to prove 
that he was free — by personal declaration and two witnesses 
— before he could be enrolled. Four months' advance wages 
were paid to the men before they left Zanzibar, and, on their 
return, their full wages were delivered into their own hands. 
No doubt many who had been slaves had managed to get into 
the expedition, as I found to my cost, when well away in the 
interior ; but, since they had been able to earn their own living, 
their slavery had been merely nominal, and all their earnings 
were their own to do what they liked with, and their owners 
never saw them except when, at the end of Ramadan, they 
called to pay their respects. To all intents and purposes, they 
were as much freemen as the free-born, inasmuch as they were 
relieved from all obligation to their masters. 

To proceed on the lines that, because they were not free- 
born they must be slaves, one would have to clear out the 
Seedy-boy stokers from the British fleet in the Indian Ocean, 
and all the mail, passenger, and freight steamers which ship 
them at Aden and Bombay, Calcutta, Singapore, and Yoko- 
hama. All the British consulates on the East Coast — Zan- 
zibar, Madagascar, etc. — would have to be charged with con- 
niving at the slave-trade, as also all the British merchants in 
those places, because they employed house-servants, door and 
horse-boys, who were nominally slaves. 

White men are not in the habit of proceeding to an Arab 
slave-owner, and agreeing with him as to the employment 
of his slaves. I employed English agents at Zanzibar to 
engage my people, and every precaution was taken that no 
one was enlisted who could not swear he was an Ingwaria, or 
freeman. I was only four days in Zanzibar, but, before these 



422 HENRY M. STANLEY 

men were accepted, they had to re-swear their declarations 
before the British Consul-general that they were free. 

The accusations made against me that I employed slaves 
were, therefore, most disgraceful. History will be compelled 
to acknowledge that I have some right to claim credit in the 
acts which have followed, one upon another, so rapidly of late, 
and which have tended to make slave-raiding impossible, and 
to reduce slave-trading to sly and secret exchanges of human 
chattels in isolated districts in the interior. 

The book 'In Darkest Africa* was published in June by 
my usual publishers, Messrs. Sampson Low & Co., and the 
Messrs. Scribners of New York brought it out in America. 
It was translated into French, German, Italian, Spanish, and 
Dutch, and in English it has had a sale of about one hundred 
and fifty thousand. 

The month of May was mainly passed by me in stirring up 
the Chambers of Commerce and the Geographical Societies to 
unite in pressing upon the British Government the necessity 
of more vigorous action to prevent East Africa being wholly 
absorbed by Germany ; and, on coming southward from Scot- 
land, where I had been speaking, the news reached me that 
Lord Salisbury had secured for Great Britain, Zanzibar and 
the northern half of East Africa, but singularly curtailed of 
the extensive piece of pasture-land west of Kilimanjaro. This 
odd cutting off is due to a Permanent Official in the Foreign 
Office, whose hand can be traced in that oblique line running 
from the northern base of the Devil's Mountain to S. Lat. lo, 
on Lake Victoria. Had that gentleman been a member of an 
African expedition, he would never have had recourse to an 
oblique line when a straight line would have done better. 
However, while it remains a signal instance of his weakness, it 
is no less a remarkable proof of German magnanimity ! For, 
though the Germans were fully aware that the official was one 
of the most squeezable creatures in office, they declined to 
extend the line to the Equator! Kilimanjaro, therefore, was 
handed over to Germany, 'because the German Emperor was 
so interested in the flora and fauna of that district/^ That, at 
any rate, was the reason given for the request ! 




DOROTHY STANLEY 



CHAPTER XX 
THE HAPPY HAVEN 

ON Saturday, July 12, 1890, I was married to Stanley, at 
Westminster Abbey. He was very ill at the time, with 
gastritis and malaria, but his powerful will enabled him to 
go through with the ceremony. 

We went straight to Melchet Court, lent to us for our honeymoon 
by Louisa, Lady Ashburton. Stanley's officer. Surgeon Parke, ac- 
companied us, and together we nursed Stanley back to health. 
Stanley's Journal contains the following passage: — 

Saturday, 12th July, 1890. 

Being very sick from a severe attack of gastritis, which 
came on last Thursday evening, I was too weak to experience 
anything save a calm delight at the fact that I was married, 
and that now I shall have a chance to rest. I feel as unim- 
pressed as if I were a child taking its first view of the world, 
or as I did when, half-dead at Manyanga in 188 1, I thought I 
had done with the world ; it is all so very unreal. During my 
long bachelorhood, I have often wished that I had but one 
tiny child to love ; but now, unexpectedly as it seems to me, 
I possess a wife ; my own wife, — Dorothy Stanley now, 
Dorothy Tennant this morning, — daughter of the late Charles 
Tennant of Cadoxton Lodge, Vale of Neath, Glamorgan, and 
of 2, Richmond Terrace, Whitehall, London. 

On the 8th August, after nearly a month at Melchet, we went to 
Maloja in the Engadine, where we spent a few quiet, happy weeks. 
Sir Richard Burton and his wife were there. Stanley had last seen 
him in 1886. 

Had a visit from Sir Richard F. Burton, one of the dis- 
coverers of Lake Tanganyika. He seems much broken in 
health. Lady Burton, who copies Mary, Queen of Scotland, 
in her dress, was with him. In the evening, we met again. I 
proposed he should write his reminiscences. He said he could 
not do so, because he should have to write of so many people. 
! Be charitable to them, and write only of their best qualities,* 



424 HENRY M. STANLEY 

I said. — ' I don't care a fig for charity ; if I write at all, I must 
write truthfully, all I know,' he replied. 

He is now engaged in writing a book called 'Anthropology 
of Men and Women,' a title, he said, that does not describe its 
contents, but will suffice to induce me to read it. What a 
grand man ! One of the real great ones of England he might 
have been, if he had not been cursed with cynicism. I have no 
idea to what his Anthropology refers, but I would lay great 
odds that it is only another means of relieving himself of a 
surcharge of spleen against the section of humanity who 
have excited his envy, dislike, or scorn. If he had a broad 
mind, he would curb these tendencies, and thus allow men to 
see more clearly his grander qualities. 

From Maloja, we went to the Lake of Como, visited Milan, and 
spent a night at Captain Camperio's delightful house, ' La Santa,' 
near Monza. Stanley thus describes it : — 

Camperio and Casati, the African travellers, were at the 
station to greet us. After twenty minutes' drive from Monza 
we reached Camperio's place ; it was formerly a convent, and 
has been in possession of the family two hundred years. 
Captain Camperio has been the devoted friend and patron 
of Casati for many years, and was the cause of his going to 
Africa. It appears that Casati, far from being a champion of 
Emin, is now resentful towards him, because Emin, as usual 
with him, has been neglectful of his friend's susceptibilities. 
Casati has done very well with his Book. 

Captain Camperio and his delightful family were soon fast 
friends with us. A few years later he died, and so La Santa became 
only a happy memory. We now turned homeward, going first to 
Geneva, then to Paris, and, finally, on the 3rd October, 1890, to 
Ostend, where we stayed at Hotel Fontaine, as guests of the King. 
We dined at the Chalet Royal, and the next day Stanley took a 
long walk with the King. Thus we spent four days, Stanley walking 
daily with His Majesty. We dined every evening at the Chalet Royal. 
On the 8th, we left Ostend. State-cabins were given to us, and a 
Royal lunch served. 

We now returned to London, and, on October 22nd, Stanley 
received his D. C. L., at Durham; on the 23rd, we went to Cam- 
bridge, where he received the LL. D., from the University. In June, 
Stanley had been made D. C. L., by Oxford, and, soon after, LL. D., 



THE HAPPY HAVEN 425 

by Edinburgh. The University of Halle had bestowed its Degree of 
Doctor of Philosophy in 1879.' 

On the 29th October, we sailed for America. Stanley had under- 
taken a lecture tour, under the management of Major Pond. It was 
a tremendous experience ; the welcome we received everywhere, and 
the kindness shown to us, were something very wonderful. 

We remained over a week in New York, where Stanley lectured, 
and then we visited all the great Eastern cities. 

Stanley, in his Journal, writes : — 

The untidiness and disorder of the streets of New York strike 
me as being terrible for so rich a city, and such an energetic 
population. The streets are cut up by rails in a disgraceful 
fashion. The noise of bells, and wheels, and horses' hoofs, dins 
the ears. Telegraph-posts, with numberless wires, obstruct the 
view, and suggest tall wire-fences ; furlongs of posters meet the 
eye everywhere, and elevated railroads choke the view of the 
sky. The man who invented the hideous 'Elevated' deserves 
to be expelled from civilisation, and the people who permitted 
themselves to be thus tortured have certainly curious tastes. 
If they were of my mind, they would pull these structures 
down, and compel the shareholders to build it in such a man- 
ner that, while it might be more useful and safe, it would not 
be such an eyesore, nor so suggestive of insolence and tyranny 
on one side, and of slavish submission on the people's side. 

The view from our hotel-window shows me the street 
ploughed-up, square blocks of granite lying as far as the eye 
can see, besides planking, boarding, piles of earth, and stacks 
of bricks. I counted one hundred and seventy-four lines of 
wire in the air, rows of mast-like telegraph-poles, untrimmed 
and unpainted, in the centre of the American Metropolis! 
What taste ! 

We now travelled over the States and Canada, In a special PuII- 
man-car, which had been named 'Henry M. Stanley.' It was 
palatial, for we had our own kitchen and cook, a dining-car, which, 
at night was converted into a dormitory, a drawing-room with piano, 
three state-bedrooms, and a bath-room. 

After visiting all the Eastern cities, and Canada, we returned 
to New York. On Sunday, the 25th January, 1891, we dined with 

* The mere list of Honorary Memberships of Geographical Societies, Addresses of 
Welcome, at home and abroad, and the Freedoms of all the leading cities in the United 
Kingdom, would occupy a large volume, and therefore cannot be more than alluded to 
here. — D. S. 



426 HENRY M. STANLEY 

Cyrus Field (who laid the first Atlantic Cable), at 123, Gramercy 
Park, and met General W. T. Sherman, David Dudley Field, Charles 
A. Dana, and others. 

On the 31st, Stanley went to a Banquet given by the Press Club. 
The following is the entry in his Journal : — 

Was dined by the Press Club. General Sherman was 
present, with a rubicund complexion, and in an exceedingly 
amiable mood. He and I exchanged pleasant compliments to 
each other in our after-dinner speeches. 

On the 14th February, at Chicago, Stanley wrote in his Journal : — 

The sad news reached us to-day of the death of General 
W. T. Sherman, the Leader of the Great March through 
Georgia, and the last of the Immortal Three — Grant, Sheri- 
dan, Sherman. His last public appearance was at the Press 
Club Banquet to me in New York. At the time of his death 
he was the most popular man in New York, and well deserved 
the popularity. 

In his speech at the Press Club, I recognised an oratorical 
power few men not knowing him would have suspected. He 
had the bearing of one who could impress, also those easy ges- 
tures which fix the impression, and the pathos which charms 
the ear, and affects the feelings. When we remember what he 
was, and that we saw in him the last of that splendid trio who, 
by their native worth, proved themselves possessors of that 
old American patriotism of Revolutionary days, not genius, 
but fine military talents, directed by moderating single-minded- 
ness to one common and dear object, — when we consider this, 
the effect of General Sherman's presence may be better under- 
stood than described. 

Los Angeles, California, 21st March. A Fresno news- 
paper, in commenting on my personal appearance, said that 
I was only five feet, three inches, and quoted Caesar and 
Napoleon as examples of what small men are capable of. The 
Los Angeles 'Herald' informed its readers this morning, that 
I am six feet, four inches ! The truth is, I am live feet, five and 
a half inches in my socks. 

Sunday, 29th March, 1891. Reached New Orleans after 
thirty-two years' absence. I left it in 1859, and return to it in 
1 89 1. I drove with D. to the French Market, down Tchapi- 



THE HAPPY HAVEN 427 

toulas St., St. Andrew's St., Annunciation St., Charles 
Avenue, to St. Charles Hotel. Took a walk with D. to Tchapi- 
toulas St., then to the Levee; gazed across the full view, and 
pointed to 'Algiers' opposite, where I had often sported. 

Monday, 30th March. Rose at six-thirty and went with D. 
to French Market, to treat her to what I have often boasted 
of, 'a cup of the best coffee in the world.' The recipe appears 
to be two pounds of Java Coffee to one and a half gallons of 
water. Monsieur L. Morel owned the coffee-stand. He came 
from France in 1847. Very likely I must have drunk coffee, 
many a time, as a boy, at his stand ! 

We walked home by Charles Street, well known to me. 
New Orleans changes but slowly. 

From New Orleans we visited Chattanooga. Went to the 
top of Lookout Mountain. People are very kind and atten- 
tive to us wherever we go, but I wish the lectures were over ; 
I am very weary. 

On Saturday, April 4th, we visited Nashville. Stanley's entry is 
simply ' Dear old Nashville ! ' 

This tour was very exhausting. The constant travelling, lectur- 
ing, and social demands made upon us, taxed Stanley's strength 
severely. By nature shy and retiring, he shrank from ovations, and 
wished, above all things, to pass unnoticed. This letter written to 
me from our private car when I was in Colorado, where he joined 
me a few days later, will give an idea of his feelings : — 

I spend most of my time in my own little cabin, writing or 
reading ; enduring the breaks on my privacy because they are 
a necessity ; each time invoking more patience, and beseeching 
Time to hurry on its lagging movement that I might once 
more taste of absolute freedom. Meanwhile, what pleasure I 
obtain is principally in reading, unless I come to a little town, 
and can slip, unobserved, out-of-doors for a walk. I often 
laugh at the ridiculous aspect of my feelings, as I am com- 
pelled to become shifty and cunning, to evade the eager citi- 
zens' advances. I feel like Cain, hurrying away with his uneasy 
conscience after despatching Abel, or a felonious cashier 
departing with his plunder ! When I finally succeed in get- 
ting off without attracting anyone, you would be amused 
could you peep in underneath my waistcoat and observe the 
sudden lifting of the feelings, just like the sudden lighting of 



428 HENRY M. STANLEY 

a waste of angry sea by the full sun, warm, bland, and full 
of promise. Then away I go against the keen, cold wind, but 
the feelings are rejoicing, laughing, babbling of fun and enjoy- 
ment, and the undertone of the great harmony is Freedom I 
I am free ! Block after block is passed without a glance, until 
I get to the quieter parts, and then I straighten out, take a 
long breath, expressing by the act the indescribable relief I 
have of being away from the talking man, with his wayward 
moods, and exceeding sensitiveness. 

I sometimes think with a shiver of what I shall have to 
endure in London : just because a person sends a polite invita- 
tion to dinner, or tea, or reception, one must note it down as a 
binding engagement for that evening or afternoon. One must 
not forget it ; one must think of it, and cut out that period of 
existence from his short life, to eat and drink at the express 
hour ! This is not freedom ! To be free is to have no cares at 
all, no thought of the next hour, or the next day, or the next 
month ; to be as we were at Melchet, — early breakfast, walk 
out, sit on chair or bench, walk in, or walk out, as though 
irresponsible beings. How I did enjoy Melchet ! Afterwards 
came busy, exacting life, preparation for lectures, etc. All 
Europe and America were not so pleasant as lovely, dreamy 
Melchet. 

There are butterflies and bees in the world ; the butterflies 
like to play amid the flowers, I am content to belong to the 
bee class. The bees do not envy the butterflies, do not think 
at all about them, and that is the same with me. I might 
stand it for a week, perhaps a month ; but the utter waste of 
life would begin to present itself, until, at last, my mind would 
conceive an accusing phantom, composed of lost days and 
weeks, with their hosts of lost opportunities ever reproaching 
me for my devotion to the inane and profitless. Ah, no, I must 
be doing something; no matter what it appears to others, 
if to me it satisfies the craving for doing or learning, that is 
enough. 

On April 15, 1891, we sailed for Liverpool. Stanley ends the 
Journal of our American tour with the words : — 

The greatest part of America is unequalled for its adapta- 
bility for the service of man, and her people are doing the 



THE HAPPY HAVEN 429 

utmost they can to utilize its productiveness. They have 
every right to be grateful for their land, and I think they are 
both grateful and proud of it. 

The American farmer, of whom but little mention is made, 
is one of the finest natures in existence. Milton's description 
of Adam, ' the great Sire of all,* a little altered, would befit the 
typical American farmer. I never see one but I feel inclined to 
say to him, ' Good and honest man, all blessings attend thee ! ' 
His life is without reproach, his soul without fear, he has faith 
in God, he is affectionate, serene in demeanour ; there is confi- 
dence in his gait, and he understands and loves the kindly 
earth. The typical American merchant is a sober and solid 
man, shrewd and practical, a pillar of the Commonwealth, and 
daringly enterprising on occasion. 

We now returned to London, and from there Stanley went on a 
lecturing tour over England and Scotland. I did not accompany 
him throughout, but joined him at different places, so that I possess 
some delightful letters written to me when we were apart. In one 
he writes : — 

Rest ! Ah, my dear ! we both need it — I more than you. 
Absolute stillness, somewhere in remote and inaccessible 
places, in an island, or in the air, only certain articles of food 
and comfort being indispensable. Then let me wake to strains 
of music, and I think I should rise to life again ! Until then, 
existence is mere prolonged endurance. 

Stanley all his life had a passion for reading, when he could not 
be ' doing.' He delighted in reading Caesar, Thucydides, Xenophon, 
Polybius, and lighter books also did not come amiss. From Chelten- 
ham, he wrote : — 

I have begun again on Thucydides. Gladstone's 'Glean- 
ings' are ended. They are all good. Strange! how I detect the 
church-going. God-fearing, conscientious Christian, in almost 
every paragraph. Julian Corbett's 'Drake' is fair; I am glad 
I read it, and refreshed myself with what I knew before of the 
famous sailor. 

From the Bell Hotel, Gloucester, he wrote, June 3, 1891 : — 

I had a long walk into the country, which is simply buried 
under bushy green of grass and leaves. 



430 HENRY M. STANLEY 

I saw the largest river in England yesterday : it appears to 
be a little wider than what I could hop over with a pole in 
my best days. It was a dirty, rusty-coloured stream, but the 
meadows were fat. The country seems to perspire under its 
covering of leafy verdure. I always loved the English country, 
and my secret attachment for it seemed to me well confirmed 
to-day, as I thrilled with admiration and affection for all I saw. 

June 4th. Took a walk along the heights of Clifton ! What 
a picture of the Severn Gorge — woods, cliffs, villas, good 
roads, rosy-cheeked children, romping school-boys, fond 
mamas, and a score of other things — one can get from the 
Suspension Bridge! 

His next letter was from Clifton : — 

You press me to accept the invitation to preside at the 
Eisteddfod. I feel that we, the people of Wales generally, and I, 
are not in such close sympathy as to enable me to say anything 
sufficiently pleasing to their ears. How could it be otherwise ? 
The Eisteddfod, as I understand it, is for the purpose of excit- 
ing interest in the Welsh nationality and language. My 
travels in the various continents have ill-prepared me for 
sympathising with such a cause. If I were to speak truly 
my mind, I should recommend Welshmen to turn their atten- 
tion to a closer study of the English language, literature, and 
characteristics, for it is only by that training that they can 
hope to compete with their English brothers for glory, honour, 
and prosperity. There is no harm in understanding the Welsh 
language, but they should be told by sensible men that every 
hour they devote to it, occupies time that might be better 
employed in furthering their own particular interests. But 
who will dare tell men, so devoted to their own people and 
country as the Welsh, the real truth? / am not the man! 
There is no object to be gained save the good of the Welsh 
people themselves, who, unfortunately, fail to see it in that 
light, and would accordingly resent whatever was said to 
them. I am so ignorant of the blessings attending these local 
studies, that my speech would be barren and halting. If I 
could only feel a portion of what the fervid Welshman feels, 
I might carry through the day a bearing as though I enjoyed 
it all, but I fear I shall hang my head in self-abasement. 



THE HAPPY HAVEN 431 

Now if it were a British community that met to celebrate 
British glories, what themes and subjects! But how can I 
shout for Cambria ? What is Cambria, alone ? What has she 
done, what hope for her, separate and distinct from her big 
sister Britannia, or rather Anglia ? United, they are great; but 
divided, neither is aught. Now do you understand to what 
a hard shift I am put ? I shall be hooted out of the country, 
because my stubborn tongue cannot frame agreeable fictions ! 

June 16, 1 89 1, he wrote to me: — 

You ought to have been with me at Carnarvon, simply to be 
amazed at the excitement in North Wales, along the line, as 
I stepped from the train ; the people, hard-featured, homely 
creatures, rushed up, the crowd being enormous. Yester- 
day I had a striking explanation of why and wherefore the 
woman in the Scriptures kissed the hem of the Master's gar- 
ment: as I moved through the crowd, I felt hands touch my 
coat, then, getting bolder, they rubbed me on the back, stroked 
my hair, and, finally, thumped me hard, until I felt that the 
honours were getting so weighty I should die if they continued 
long. Verily, there were but few thumps between me and 
death ! A flash of fierceness stole over me for a second, and I 
turned to the crowd ; but they all smiled so broadly that, poor, 
dear, mad creatures, I forgave them, or, at least, resolved to 
submit. Well! until 11.45 P- M., from 5 p. m., I was either 
talking at the pitch of my voice to six thousand people, or 
being wrung by the hand by highly-strung, excited people. 
Were it not for the prayer, 'God bless you, Stanley! God 
prosper your work, Stanley! The Lord be praised for you, 
my man!' I could have done anything but feel grateful, the 
strain on my nerves was so exhausting. But I need prayers, 
and their blessings were precious. 

The streets were full; eight excursion trains had brought 
the country folk ; they blocked the way of the carriage, com- 
ing in, and going out. Dear sons of toil and their sisters, the 
grand stout-hearted mothers who bore them, and the grey- 
haired sires ! My heart went out to them ; for, underneath all, 
I felt a considerable admiration for them — indeed, I always 
had. I feel what all this means, just as I know what is passing 
in the African's heart, when I suddenly make him rich, in- 



432 HENRY M. STANLEY 

stead of hurting him. There is a look, as of a lifting-up of the 
soul into the eyes, which explains as fully as words. 

June 20th, 1891. I have nine more lectures to deliver, and 
then, God and man willing, I shall cast me down for rest. 

I have just begun to read Walter Scott's 'Journal.' I Hke it 
immensely. The Life of Houghton is dull ; his own letters 
are the best in it, but there is no observation, or judgement 
upon things ; merely a series of letters upon town-talk ; what 
he did, seldom, however, what he thought. Where you see his 
thought, it is worth reading twice. 

It is a great relief at last to be able to 'speak my mind,' 
not to be chilled and have to shrink back. Between mother 
and child, you know the confidence and trust that exist; I 
never knew it; and now, by extreme favour of Providence, 
the last few years of my life shall be given to know this 
thoroughly. Towards you I begin trustfully to exhibit my 
thoughts and feelings ; as one, unaccustomed to the security 
of a bank, places his hard-earned money in the care of a 
stranger, professing belief in its security, yet inwardly doubt- 
ing, so I shyly revealed this and that, until now, when I give 
up all, undoubting, perfect in confidence. 

June 29th. To-morrow, a lecture at Canterbury will finish 
my present course. And then I shall be at large to look at 
everything on earth with diflferent eyes. Think of the novel 
liberty of lying in bed as long as I please, to take coffee in 
bed, the morning cigar and bath, without an inward monitor 
nagging persistently and urging to duty ! By the way, apro- 
pos of that word, M. said yesterday she disliked the word 
'duty.' I wonder if she has been reading Jeremy Bentham, 
who wrote to the same effect. 

Duty, though an imperious, is a very necessary master; 
but I shall be very glad to pass a few weeks, at least, owing 
no duty but that which I shall owe to your pleasure and 
mine. 

Canterbury, July ist, 8.30 a. m. I have risen thus early 
to celebrate my emancipation from the thraldom imposed 
upon me by lecture agents and my own moral weakness, to 
write to you. 

I have seen the time when I could have written gloriously 
about this singular old town ; I love it no less now than I did 



THE HAPPY HAVEN 433 

years ago when I first saw it, but I am much busier with 
various things now than then. 

The old Fountain Hotel is a typical English inn. I heard a 
little bit of vocal music from the Cathedral choir, and very- 
much admired it. What a fine old Cathedral it is ! But oh ! 
how the religion that built it has faded ! The worship of the 
Almighty Creator of Heaven and Earth, who, we were taught 
in our youth, sat in the Heaven of Heavens, has been so 
superseded by that degrading worship of gold and Society ! 

Apropos of this, I picked up at a book-stall yesterday a 
little brochure called ' Caesar's Column,' a tale of the twentieth 
century, by Ignatius Donnelly. I read it through. It pre- 
tends to be a series of letters from a man named Gabriel, 
a visitor to New York from the State of Uganda, Central 
Africa. They are directed to one Heinreich, a resident of the 
village of Stanley ! He describes the marvellous inventions of 
the age, especially the air-demons, which are air-warships 
loaded with bombs, charged with poisonous fumes, which, 
dropped from above in the streets, destroy a quarter of a 
million soldiers. The armed force of the State thus disposed 
of, the canaille proceed to exterminate the devotees of Society 
and the cold, selfish civilisation, or rather that methodical 
system founded upon spoliation and oppression of the poor 
which the wealthy have initiated by huge trusts, etc., wherein 
there is no thought of mercy, justice, or sweet charity. 

The end of all is destruction and utter extermination of the 
wealthy classes over Europe and America, and the quick 
upheaval of everything resembling Order and Law by the 
Anarchist clan, and the two continents relapse, fast enough, 
into barbarism, in consequence. It is a powerful story — 
impossible, of course ; but some of its readers will rise from 
reading it, thoughtful, and a small seedling of good may, or 
ought, to come from it. 

At last, Stanley's holiday came, and we went to Switzerland at 
the end of July. The fine mountain air, the beauty of the scenery, 
long walks, peace and quiet, gave Stanley what he so needed — 
physical and mental rest. Of an evening, we read aloud, retiring 
very early, as Stanley had the African habit of rising at six. 

I persuaded Stanley sometimes to play at cards, but he never 
much cared to do so; he not only thought cards a great waste of 
time, but he also thought playing for money discreditable; he 



434 HENRY M. STANLEY 

wanted all the time he could get for reading, or planning something 
he meant to do, or write. He was, in fact, an inveterate worker. 

We were returning to England at the end of August, when Stanley, 
in a damp mountain-meadow at Miirren, slipped and broke his left 
ankle. He suffered a good deal, the injury bringing on malaria; but 
the bone united without shortening the leg, and, in time, the lameness 
disappeared. This accident prevented his presiding at the Eistedd- 
fod. 

On the 2nd October, Stanley went to Ostend, by invitation of the 
King of the Belgians. Mr. Mounteney Jephson accompanied him. 
Stanley wrote to me : — 

The King does not look greyer than I remember him during 
the last two years. He tells me he will be fifty-seven next 
April, and that he feels the approach of age, one sign of which 
is loss of memory. He cannot remember names. I told him 
that that fact did not strike me as suggestive of age, since the 
longer we lived the more names we had to remember, and 
there was a limit to one's power of remembering. 

Stanley then wrote at length his conversation with the King; 
but I will not give it here. 

After dinner, we adjourn to the King's private room to 
smoke. Baron Goffinet takes charge of Jephson, and shows 
him the Casino. The King tells me he walks twenty-five 
kilometres every day : his daily life begins at 5.30 A. M., when 
he takes a cup of tea ; he breakfasts at 8.30. All his letters 
for his Ministers are written by himself between 6 A. M. and 
breakfast, and, at 10 o'clock, they are sent to the Ministers. 
He says he has been twenty-six years in active service. 

After dinner, the King cautiously approached and sounded 
me on the possibility of my resuming my duties on the 
Congo. 

I pointed to my broken leg, for I am still very lame. 

' Oh. ' he said, ' not now, but when you return from Australia, 
sound in health and limb.* 

'We shall see. Your Majesty,' I said. 

'I have a big task on hand for you, when you are ready,' 
were his last words. 

In October, 1891, we left England for a visit to Australia, New 
Zealand, and Tasmania, travelling via Brindisi, some twelve miles 
from which our train came into collision with a goods train. Stanley 
thus describes the accident : — 



THE HAPPY HAVEN 435 

At 3.45 p. M., we were rattling along at forty miles an hour, 
when the train jostled dangerously at the northern end of a 
siding. D. and I cast enquiring glances at each other, but, 
finding we were not derailed, resumed our composure. A 
second later there was an explosion like that of a rocket, and, 
the next second, there was a jar and a slight shock. ' Lift up 
your feet,' I cried to D. ; and, at the words, my window burst 
into a shower of finely- powdered glass, which fell over me, and 
we stood stock-still. Rising on my crutch, I looked through 
the broken window and discovered four freight trucks, crum- 
pled up into a pitiful wreck, just ahead of us, within about 
fifty yards of a levelled wall, and I then saw that our engine 
and van were lying on their side. Our escape was a narrow 
one, for our coupe compartment came next to the van. For- 
tunately, there was no loss of life. 

I regret that space does not allow me to quote Stanley's descrip- 
tions of persons and places during his half-year in Australia. I give 
one or two personal passages from his Journal. 

Auckland, December 30th. Sir George Grey called on us in 
the afternoon, and took us out to show us the Public Library. 
There we saw valuable old Missals, with wonderful paintings 
of scroll-work and impossible leafage. In another room, he 
showed us private letters from Livingstone, received by him 
when Governor of Cape Colony. There were also some from 
Speke. 

Livingstone's letters are marked 'Private.' He must have 
recognised a kind of cousinship in Sir George, to have deliv- 
ered himself so frankly. He wrote strongly and earnestly to 
one whom he rightly supposed would understand him. 

Sir George, a traveller himself, and likewise a strong man, 
would appreciate him. It did me good to see his handwriting, 
and also to see letters of Speke. 

I doubt whether Speke will ever be thoroughly known to 
the world, though there was much that was great and good in 
him ; but Speke, unfortunately, could not express himself. 

It was a keen pleasure to read these old letters, which 
breathed of work, loyalty of soul, human duties, imperial 
objects, and moral obligations, and then to look up at the face 
of the venerable statesman to whom they were addressed, and 



436 HENRY M. STANLEY 

trace the benevolence, breadth of mind, and Intelligence which 
elicited the spontaneous, free expression of their hopes from 
these travellers and pioneers. It is so elevating to see a man 
who is not tainted with meanness and pettiness, with whom 
one can talk as to a Father-confessor, without fear of being 
misunderstood, and without risk of finding it in the newspa- 
pers of the next day. 

Sir George has a grand, quiet face, and a pair of round blue 
eyes beaming with kindness, and the light of wisdom. There 
are others like him in the world, no doubt, but it is only by 
a rare chance we meet them. Should I be asked what gave 
me the most pleasure in life, I would answer that it was the 
meeting with wise and good elders, who, while retaining a 
vivid interest in the affairs of life, could, from their height of 
knowledge and experience, approve what I had done, and bid 
me strive on, undaunted, undismayed. 

I here give a letter from Sir George Grey, written a month later : 

Auckland, 29th Jan., 1892. 

My dear Stanley, — This is the 52nd Anniversary of New 
Zealand, a public holiday. 

I am left in perfect tranquillity, with full time for calm reflection, 
for all are gone on some party of pleasure. I have occupied my 
morning in following your sufferings and trials as recorded in Parke's 
' Experiences in Equatorial Africa.' After reading, with the greatest 
pleasure, pages 512, 513, and 514, these have set me reflecting upon 
what you have done for the Empire by your services, and what has 
been the reward given publicly to you by the authorities of that 
Empire — well, neglect! 

I am inclined to think it is best that the matter should stand thus. 

All of danger, sorrow, suffering, trial of every kind that man could 
endure, you have undergone. 

From all of these you have emerged unshaken, triumphant, every 
difficulty overcome, reverenced by those who served under you, 
Africa opened to the world, the unknown made manifest to all. So 
to have suffered, so to have succeeded, must have done much to 
form a truly great character, the remembrance of which will go 
down to posterity. 

Yet one thing was wanting to render the great drama in which 
you have been the great actor complete. Could the man who had 
done all this, and supported such various trials, bear that — perhaps 
hardest of all — cold neglect, and the absence of national recog- 
nition and national reward for what he had accomplished ? From this 
trial, as from all the others you have undergone, you have come 



THE HAPPY HAVEN 437 

out a conqueror — calm, unmoved, and uncomplaining. Your own 
character has been improved by this new trial, which will add an 
interest to your history in future times ; and I sit here, not lamenting 
that you move amongst your fellow-men untitled, undecorated, but 
with a feeling that all has taken place for the best. 

I had wished to write to you on several points. I was much struck 
by a statement in Parke's journal, that at one point it only took 
fifteen minutes to walk from the headwaters of the Nile to those 
of the Congo.^ This distance could hardly be shown upon a small 
map, and probably caused an error in the old maps, or in verbal 
descriptions from which the old maps were made. 

But I shall weary you with this long letter. I hope we shall meet 
again before long, but I fear some time may elapse before I can start 
for England. I feel that I owe duties to New Zealand, Australia, 
and the Cape, and, until I have at least partially fulfilled them, I 
hesitate to indulge my longing once more to revisit my early home, 
and my many relatives. 

Will you give my regards to Mrs. Stanley, and tell her that the in- 
teresting photograph of yourself which you were good enough to 
send me has been handsomely framed and adorns the Public Library. 

Yours truly, 

G. Grey. 

February 12th, Tasmania. A curious thing happened this 
morning. I am obliged to rise at an early hour on account of 
habits contracted during more than twenty years of African 
travel, and to avail myself of the silent hours of the morning 
to procure an exercise-walk for the sake of health. At 5.30 I 
was shaving, and somehow my thoughts ran persistently on 
what Colonel J. A. Grant (the companion of Speke) said to me 
in the Jerusalem Chamber at Westminster, on my marriage 
day, July 12th, 1890. Said he, ' I must take this opportunity 
to say a long good-bye, for, after to-day, I don't suppose you 
will care to come to my symposium and talk about Africa.' — 
'Why?' I asked. — * Oh ! well, you are married now, and mar- 
riage often parts the best of male friends.' — 'Oh, come!' I 
replied, * I can't see how my marriage will affect our friend- 
ship ; I will make it a point to disprove what you say.' Then 
Grant and I were separated. * And it is quite true,* I reflected ; 
' we have not met since, somehow. But I will make it a point 
to visit Grant the first evening after I reach London.' And I 
shook my razor at the figure in the mirror, to confirm the 
mental vow. A short time afterwards, I went down ; the hotel 

^ The Aruwimi branch of the Congo. — D. S. 



438 HENRY M. STANLEY 

was not yet opened. As I put my hand on the knob of the 
door to open it, the morning paper was thrust underneath 
the door by the newspaper-boy outside. Anxious to read 
the cablegrams from London, I seized the paper, and the 
first news to catch my attention was, — * Death of Colonel 
J. A. Grant, the Nile Explorer.' What an odd coincidence ! 

This is the second time in my experience that a person 
thousands of miles away from me has been suddenly sug- 
gested to me a few moments preceding an announcement of 
this kind. From the day I parted with Grant, till this morn- 
ing, his words had not once recurred to my mind. 

On the other occasion, the message came as an apparition. 
I was in, the centre of some hundreds of men,^ and the vision 
of a woman lying on her bed, dying, appeared to me suddenly. 
I heard her voice plainly, every item of furniture in the room 
was visible to me; in fact, I had as vivid a picture of the 
room, and all within it, as though I stood there in broad 
daylight. The vision, clear as it was, passed away, and I 
awoke to the reality of things around me. I was bewildered to 
find that no one had witnessed any abstraction on my part, 
though one was so close, that he touched me. Yet, in spirit, 
I had been six thousand miles away, and saw my own figure at 
the bedside of the dying woman ; months after, when I had 
actually arrived in Europe, I was told that she had died a 
few hours later. 

* See page 207. 



CHAPTER XXI 
POLITICS AND FRIENDS 

SOON after our marriage, I thought of Parliament for Stanley. 
It seemed to me that one so full of energy, with such ad- 
ministrative power and political foresight, would find in the 
House of Commons an outlet for his pent-up energy. I also felt he 
needed men's society. We had no country home then, and to be 
shut up in a London house was certainly no life for Stanley ; also, 
at the back of my mind was the haunting fear of his returning to 
the Congo. I thought that, once in Parliament, he would be safely 
anchored. 

At first, he would not hear of it, but his friend, Mr. Alexander 
Bruce, of Edinburgh, joined me in persuading Stanley to become 
Liberal-Unionist candidate for North Lambeth. We went into the 
battle just ten days before the polling day. We were quite ignorant 
of electioneering, and I mu^ say we had a dreadful ten days of it. 

Stanley wrote in his Journal, Monday, 20th June, 1892 : — 

'Have consented to contest the constituency of North 
Lambeth against Alderman Coldwells, Radical. I accepted 
because D. is so eager for me to be employed, lest I fly away 
again to Africa. 

On the 29th, Stanley held a great meeting at Hawkeston Hall, 
Lambeth, but he was howled down by an organised rabble imported 
for the purpose ! The leader of these rowdies, stationed in the Gal- 
lery, from time to time waved a folded newspaper, which was the 
signal for fresh interruptions, and an incredible din. The platform 
was stormed, and we had to withdraw ; when we tried to get into 
our brougham and drive away, the roughs held on to the door of 
the carriage and tore it off. Stanley was greatly disgusted : Afri- 
can savages, he thought, would have behaved better. He was not 
sorry to be beaten, though the majority against him was only one 
hundred and thirty. 

But I persuaded him to remain the Liberal-Unionist candidate. 
He thought the election would not come for some years, and faint- 
heartedly consented, on condition that he would never be expected 
to call personally on voters — never visit from ' house-to-house.' 
He consented to speak at working-men's clubs and meetings, but 
' never will I degrade myself by asking a man for his vote,' and no 
man can boast that Stanley ever did so. 



440 HENRY M. STANLEY 

I shall remember those meetings to my life's end. No one present 
could ever forget them. They took place at the local ' Constitutional 
Club ' — in the York Road, Lambeth — and in various school-rooms. 
Here Stanley for some years, as candidate, and then as member, 
spoke on the great questions of the day. 

He spoke to them of Empire, of Commerce, of what the Uganda 
railway could do — that railway which the Liberals had so hotly 
objected to constructing! He showed them what Home-Rule in 
Ireland really meant. He explained to them the Egyptian position ; 
every subject he made clear. He did not harangue working-men on 
their wrongs, nor on their rights, but he spoke to them of their duty, 
and why they should give of their best and highest. He told them 
about our colonies, how they were made, not by loafers, but by men 
eager to carve out their own fortunes ; and he told them what man- 
ner of man was required there now. He spoke with the greatest 
earnestness and simplicity, rising at times into a fiery eloquence 
which stirred the heart. I hardly ever failed to accompany him to 
those meetings. 

Stanley took infinite trouble with these speeches, as with every- 
thing else he did. He wrote them out carefully, so as to impress the 
subject on his memory; but he did not read, nor repeat them by 
rote. 

These lectures and addresses taught me a great deal, and further 
revealed to me the splendid power of Stanley. 

I used to wish he had greater and better-educated audiences; but 
he never considered any such efforts too much trouble, if the hum- 
blest and poorest listened intelligently. I here give his first address 
to the electors of North Lambeth, in 1892. 

Gentlemen, I venture to offer myself as your representa- 
tive in Parliament, in place of your esteemed member who has 
just resigned. 

The circumstances under which I place my services at your 
disposal, if somewhat unusual, are, I hope, such as may dis- 
pose you, at least, to believe in my earnest desire to serve 
you, and in serving you to serve my country. 

Gentlemen, my one mastering desire is for the maintenance, 
the spread, the dignity, the usefulness of the British Empire. 
I believe that we Englishmen are working out the greatest 
destiny which any race has ever fulfilled, but we must go on, — 
or we shall go back. There must be firm and steady guidance 
in Downing Street, there must be an invincible fleet upon the 
seas, if trade is to expand, and emigrants to spread and settle, 
and the name of England still to be reverenced in every quar- 
ter of the globe. From which of the two great English parties 



POLITICS AND FRIENDS 441 

— I ask myself, and I ask you — may we expect the firmest, 
the steadiest guidance, the most unflinching effort to maintain 
our naval strength ? The whole colonial and foreign policy of 
England under the last two administrations prompts to no 
doubtful reply. I have followed that policy, not as a partisan, 
but as a man deeply, vitally, concerned ; a man who, at least, 
has based his opinions upon practical and personal convers- 
ance with great and difficult affairs. I say, unhesitatingly, 
that I believe that the continuance of Lord Salisbury's firm, 
temperate, wise foreign policy is worth to England millions of 
money, and again, far more important than money, though 
harder to measure in national power, national usefulness, and 
national honour. 

First of all the merits of Lord Salisbury's Government, in 
my eyes, comes the enormous strengthening of the navy. 
Gentlemen, that is the essential thing. In this island, in this 
great city alone, is a treasure of life and wealth such as no 
nation ever had to guard before. It is no small achievement 
to have insured that wealth, those lives, by seventy new ships 
of war, while at the same time lightening taxation, and remit- 
ting especially those burdens which the poorest felt the most. 

Gentlemen, I am, as you know, a man of the people. What- 
ever I have achieved in life has been achieved by my own 
hard work, with no help from privilege, or favour of any kind. 
My strongest sympathies are with the working-classes. And 
had the conflict of parties now been, as it once was, a conflict 
between a few aristocrats and many workers, between privi- 
lege and popular rights, I should have ranged myself, assur- 
edly, on the workers' side. But I now see no such conflict. I 
see both sides following the people's mandate, honestly en- 
deavouring to better the condition of the masses, and I see 
the Unionist party actually effecting those reforms of which 
Radicals are too often content to talk. Most of all do I see 
this in Ireland, — looking with a fresh eye, and with no party 
prepossessions, upon the Irish affairs, I cannot but perceive 
that while others may have declaimed eloquently, Mr. 
Balfour has governed wisely; that while others propose to 
throw all into the melting-pot, in the hope of some magical 
change which no one can define, Mr. Balfour and his col- 
leagues are successfully employing all these methods, — steady 



442 HENRY M. STANLEY 

and gentle rule, development of natural resources, adminis- 
trative foresight and skill, which have, in times past, welded 
divided countries into unity, and lifted distressed and trou- 
bled communities into prosperity and peace. 

I sympathise with all that the present Government has 
well done and wisely planned for the bettering of the lot of 
the people ; to all such measures I will give the best thought 
that I can command. Yet I cannot but feel that the destiny 
of the English working-classes depends in the last resort on 
measures, on enterprises, of a larger scope. In the highlands 
of Africa, which skilful diplomacy has secured for England, 
those lands to which the Mombasa Railway will be the first 
practicable road, there is room and to spare for some twenty 
millions of happy and prosperous people. There is no need for 
the poorest among us to covet his neighbour's wealth, while 
nature still offers such immense, such inexhaustible boons. 
Only let England be united at home, wise abroad, and no man 
can assign a limit to the stability of our Empire, or to the 
prosperity of her sons. 

In conclusion, the preservation of peace, with jealous care 
of the dignity and honour of the Empire, the wonderful 
economies effected during the past six years, the readiness to 
reform judiciously where reform was necessary, as manifested 
by Lord Salisbury's Government, are worthy of our best sym- 
pathies; and if you will do me the honour to return me to 
Parliament, I promise to be active and faithful in the dis- 
charge of my duties to my constituency. 
I am, 

Yours sincerely, 

Henry M. Stanley. 

2, Richmond Terrace, Whitehall, London, 
June 2ist, 1892. 

After our defeat in 1892, I received the following letter from Sir 
George Grey, who was still in Auckland, New Zealand: — 

October, 1893. 

My dear Mrs. Stanley, — I am only just recovered from 
a long and serious illness, and can as yet hardly hold my pen, 
but I am so ashamed of not having written to you, that I am 
determined to make an effort to do so, and to ask for your 



POLITICS AND FRIENDS 443 

forgiveness. I was seriously sorry at Stanley losing his elec- 
tion, although we should havie been on different sides in poli- 
tics; but his profound judgement and knowledge of African 
affairs would have been of the greatest service in Parliament, 
and would, I believe, have prevented the Government from 
committing many errors. But the fact is, that Stanley's ser- 
vices to the empire have been too great and too unusual, and 
I ought to have known he would have to undergo many trials ; 
perhaps he is lucky in having escaped being put in chains, 
as Columbus was ! Men of this kind have no business to act 
in the unusual manner they generally do, throwing their con- 
temporaries in the shade — this is never forgiven ! 

However, these truly great men can bear misfortunes in 
whatever guise they come, like heroes, and thus add greater 
lustre to their ultimate renown, and will make their history 
much more wonderful reading. Those who climb to heights 
must expect to meet with toils and many trials. Give my 
regards to Stanley, who, tried in so many, and such vast toils 
and dangers, whilst working for his fellow-men, will not falter 
now. 

Truly yours, 

G. Grey. 

In January, 1893, Stanley wrote to me at Cambridge, where I was 
spending a week : — 

Having announced my intention of standing again as can- 
didate for N. Lambeth, I propose doing so, of course, for your 
sake; but after my experience in North Lambeth you must 
not expect any enthusiasm, any of that perseverant energy, 
which I may have shewn elsewhere, and which I could still 
show in an honourable sphere. 

But this political work involves lying, back-biting, morally- 
damaging your opponent in the eyes of the voters, giving and 
receiving wordy abuse, which reminds me of English village 
squabbles; and I cannot find the courage either to open my 
lips against my opponent, or to put myself in a position to 
receive from him and his mindless myrmidons that filthy 
abuse they are only too eager to give. That so many members 
of Parliament can do so, smiling, only shows difference of 
training as well as difference of character between us. I do not 



444 HENRY M. STANLEY 

respect them less for the capacity of being indifferent to the 
vileness, but rather feel admiration that they can do some- 
thing which I cannot do. If I were once in the House, possibly 
I should not feel so thin-skinned, and at the next fight, I should 
probably be able to face it better ; but, not being in the House, 
and, finding the House moated around by the cess-pool of 
slander and calumny, I detest the prospect of wading in for 
so doubtful a satisfaction. 

You remember that meeting in Lambeth. Well! I have 
been through some stiff scenes in my life, but I never fell so 
low in my own estimation as I fell that day ; to stand there 
being slighted, insulted by venomous tongues every second, 
and yet to feel how hopeless, nay impossible, retort was ! and 
to realise that I had voluntarily put myself in a position to be 
bespattered with as much foul reproaches as those ignorant 
fools chose to fling ! 

I will, nevertheless, stand again, but my forbearance must 
not be tested too far. I declare my strict resolve never to ask 
for a vote, never to do any silly personal canvassing in high 
streets or by-streets, never to address open-air meetings, 
cart or wagon work, or to put myself in any position where I 
can be baited like a bull in the ring. The honour of M. P. is 
not worth it. 

If it is not possible to represent North Lambeth without 
putting my dignity under the Juggernaut of Demos, let 
Demos find someone else. I will visit committees, and would 
be pleased to receive them anywhere ; I will speak at clubs and 
committee-rooms, or any halls, and pay the expenses, etc., but 
that is all. But this shall be my final effort. If I am beaten, 
I hope it will be by an overwhelming majority, which will 
for ever prove my incapacity as a candidate. 

Six or seven years ago I was a different man altogether, but 
this last expedition has sapped my delight in the rude enjoy- 
ments of life, though never at any time could I have looked 
upon electioneering as enjoyable. The whole business seems 
to me degrading. I refuse to promise to the people that which 
I think harmful to the nation. I object to the abject attitude 
of politicians towards constituents. If I stand, it is as their 
leader, not their slave. I shall go to Parliament simply to work 
for some good end, and not for personal objects. 



POLITICS AND FRIENDS 445 

I now realised that since usage and custom demand that the 
ParHamentary candidate shall call on the voters, and that Stanley 
positively, and I think rightly, refused to do so, we were in danger 
of losing the Constituency. 

I realised that whichever way the working-man means to vote, 
he likes to feel he has something you want, something he can give. 
He likes even to refuse you, and oblige you to listen to his views and 
his principles. So, if you do not choose to go and kow-tow before him, 
he puts you down as ' no good,' or, at any rate, ' not my sort.' After 
our defeat, therefore, in 1892, I resolved to ' nurse ' North Lambeth, 
since that is the accepted term, and to do so in my own way. 

It was hard work, undoubtedly, but very interesting and instruc- 
tive ; I had some unforgettable experiences, and on the whole I was 
very kindly and pleasantly received. 

1893. — February 21st. General Beauregard died last 
night at New Orleans. He was my old General at the Battle 
of Shiloh, 1862. I remember, even now, how enthusiastic my 
fellow-soldiers were about him, and I, being but an inconsid- 
erate boy, caught the fever of admiration and raved. Thank 
Heaven there were no reporters to record a boy's ravings! 
This is not to say that he was not worthy of the soldiers' 
respect. But his achievements were not those of a military 
genius, and genius alone deserves such unmeasured praise as 
we gave him. 

The Civil War only developed two first-rank men, and those 
were Grant and Lee, but in the second rank there were many 
who might possibly, with opportunities, have rivalled the 
first two. I believe if it were put to the vote of the military 
class as to which was the greater of the two greatest captains 
of the war, the vote would be cast for Robert E. Lee. Never- 
theless, there was something in Grant which, though not so 
showy as the strategy and dash of Lee, makes me cast my 
vote for Grant. 

March loth. Mrs. Annie Ingham died this day on the 
Congo, aged thirty-seven. She was the wife of Charles E. 
Ingham, ex-lifeguardsman, and missionary, mentioned in 
'Darkest Africa.' She was a sweet, good woman. She is now 
safe in that heavenly home she laboured so hard to deserve. 
Such women as this one are the very salt of our race. 

June 1 2th. Went to hear Lord Salisbury's speech at the 
Surrey Theatre. He just misses being an orator. Nature has 
given him a personality; a voice, education, experience, ob- 



446 HENRY M. STANLEY 

servation, and rank, have all contributed elements to the 
forming of an orator, and yet he lacks two things — imagina- 
tion and fire. With those two qualities which he lacks, how 
he would have swayed that audience, how he would have 
straightened himself, and with the power of eye and voice, 
and the right word, he would have lifted everyone to a pitch 
of enthusiasm such as is almost unknown in England. 

June 22nd, Thursday. My dear old friend Sir William 
Mackinnon, Bart., died this morning at 9.45, after a long 
illness contracted on his yacht 'Cornelia,' as the result of a 
cold, and deep depression of spirits created by a sense that his 
labours, great expenditure, and exercise of influence over his 
friends on behalf of British East Africa, were not appreciated 
as they deserved by Lord Rosebery and his colleagues in the 
Government. A lack of appreciation is indeed a mild term for 
the callous indifference shown by the Rosebery Government. 

Sir William had for years (since 1878) been feeling his way 
towards this great achievement. By dint of generosity, long 
continued, he finally won the confidence of successive Sultans 
of Zanzibar, especially Syyed Barghash, and when once that 
confidence was established, he gradually developed his pro- 
jects, by which he, as well as the Sultan, might greatly profit. 
Being already rich enough for gratifying his very simple 
wants, he wished to lead his friend the Sultan into the path of 
profitable enterprise. He was ably seconded by Sir John Kirk 
and Fred Holmwood, the Consul-general ; and, though it was 
tedious work, he finally succeeded. 

I claim to have assisted him considerably during my stay 
in 1887, and it was according to my advice that Barghash 
finally consented to sign the Concession, and Mackinnon hur- 
ried on the negotiation. A few weeks after I left, the Conces- 
sion was signed, and Mackinnon's way to form a Company, 
and obtain a Charter from the British Government, was clear. 
Sir William subscribed fifty thousand pounds to the capital, 
and raised the remainder from among his own friends, for no 
friend of Mackinnon could possibly resist a request from him. 

The object of the Company was mainly commercial, and, 
left alone by politicians, Mackinnon was the man to make 
it remunerative. But after the advent of Germany into the 
African field, with Bismarck at the helm, and the principles 



POLITICS AND FRIENDS 447 

declared at the Berlin conference behind them, it became neces- 
sary, in order to prevent collisions between Mackinnon's 
Company and the Germans, to give the East African Company 
a political status ; hence, with the utmost good-will and pro- 
mises of support, the Charter was given to it by the British 
Government, and the Company thereby incurred tremendous 
responsibilities. 

Egged on, urged on, advised, spurred, encouraged by Her 
Majesty's Government, the Company had first of all quickly 
to gain other Concessions, for the Sultan's only covered the 
maritime region; and this meant the despatch of a series of 
costly expeditions into the interior, over a region that embraced 
hundreds of thousands of square miles ; and as this region was 
almost unexplored, these expeditions meant the employment 
of some thousands of armed and equipped natives, led by Eng- 
lish officers. Between 1887 and 1890, some thousands of pounds 
were squandered in these costly enterprises, and the capital 
that rightly was called for the development of the commerce 
of the maritime region, and would surely have been remunera- 
tive, was thus wasted on purely political work; which the 
national exchequer should have paid for. 

In 1890, the Mackinnon Company entered Uganda, and, 
on account of the territories turned over to it by me, the 
government of the Company extended from Mombasa to the 
Albert Edward Nyanza, and North to the White Nile, and 
South of i°S. The Company bravely and patriotically held on, 
however, and sustained the enormous expense of maintaining 
the communications open between Uganda and the sea ; but 
it soon became evident to Mackinnon, who was always so 
hopeful and cheerful, that the responsibilities were becoming 
too great for his Company. 

The transport of goods to Uganda to sustain the force re- 
quired to occupy it, was very costly. Every ton cost three 
hundred pounds to carry to Uganda ; that is, it required forty 
men to carry a ton, and as the distance was three months' 
travel from the coast, and little less than three months to 
return, and each man received one pound per month, two hun- 
dred and forty pounds was required for the pay of these 
forty men for six months, exclusive of their rations. The 
force in Uganda, the various garrisons maintained along the 



448 HENRY M. STANLEY 

route, would naturally consume several hundred tons of goods 
each year, and every additional act of pressure from the 
Government increased this consumption and expense. 

It is thus easily seen how, when the Government, always 
extravagant when they manage things themselves, dipped 
their hands into the coffers of a private Company, bankruptcy 
could not be far off. Though Mackinnon, through patriotism, 
held on much longer than his friends deemed prudent, he at 
last informed the Rosebery Government that the Company 
intended to abandon Uganda and the interior, and confine 
themselves to their own proper business, namely commerce, 
unless they were assisted by a subsidy. 

I happened to be in Mackinnon's room at The Burlington 
a few minutes after he had sent the Foreign Office messenger 
with his answer to Lord Rosebery's question, what was the 
least sum the Company would accept per annum for five years 
to undertake, or rather to continue, the administration of 
Uganda, and I was told that Mackinnon's answer was fifty 
thousand pounds. 

I remember when I heard the amount that I thought the 
matter was all over, for Rosebery, with Harcourt supervising 
the treasury, would never have the courage to allow such a 
sum. Why had he not asked for half that amount, twenty-five 
thousand pounds? 'But even fifty thousand pounds is insuffi- 
cient,' cried Mackinnon. ' Certainly, after the style in which 
you have been administering during the last eighteen months ; 
but it is clear by the nature of Rosebery's question, that 
"administering Uganda" means simply its occupation, and 
keeping things quiet in order to prevent its being abandoned 
to Germany, or reverting to the barbarous methods of Mwanga. 
Rosebery wants to stand well with the country, and at the 
same time to pacify Harcourt. And twenty-five thousand 
pounds a year he could easily persuade Harcourt to grant.* 

We were still engaged in discussing this subject when the 
F. O. messenger returned with another letter. Mackinnon's 
hand trembled as he opened it, and when he had fully under- 
stood the letter, it was only by a great effort he was able to 
suppress his emotions. The letter contained but a few lines, 
to the effect that the sum demanded was impossible, and that 
there was no more to be said on the matter. 



POLITICS AND FRIENDS 449 

From that day my dear old friend became less cheerful; 
he was too great a soul to lay bare his feelings, but those who 
knew him were at no loss to find that the kind old face masked 
a good deal of inward suffering ; had one questioned me about 
him, I should have said, 'I believe that as Mackinnon, since 
he made his fortune and was childless, devoted his ripest and 
wisest years and the greater part of his fortune to this idea, 
which, like the King of the Belgians, he had of making an 
African State valuable to his Government and people, he was 
struck to the heart by Rosebery's curt refusal to consider 
his offer and his determination to displace the Company by 
the Government. Had Rosebery said he was willing to allow 
twenty-five thousand pounds, Mackinnon would have accepted 
it rather than the world should say he had failed. East Africa 
had become Mackinnon's love, his pride, and the one im- 
portant object of life. Mackinnon's soul was noble, his mind 
above all pettiness. His life was now bereft of its object, and 
the mainspring of effort had been removed, and so he visibly 
declined, and death came in kindness. 

Sunday, 25th June. Called at the Burlington Hotel, and 
viewed the body. I found the Marquis of Lome there, and 
both of us were much affected at seeing the small, still body 
on the bed. Was this the end of so many aspirations and 
struggles ! I am glad I knew him, for he was in some things a 
model character, great of soul, though small of body. Too 
generous at times, and parsimonious where I would have been 
almost lavish ; and yet I loved him for the very faults which 
I saw, because, without them, he would not have been just 
my dear Mackinnon, whose presence, somehow, was always 
a joy to me. 

Tuesday, at 10 A. M., I left for Balinakill, Argyleshire, to 
attend the funeral of my friend Mackinnon. Arrived Wednes- 
day. We walked from his house, after a simple service in 
the dining-room, which had witnessed such hospitable feasts, 
and kindly-hearted gatherings. The coffin was borne on the 
shoulders of relays of the Clachan villagers. In the parish 
grave-yard was an open grave, as for a peasant, into which 
the sumptuous oak coffin, enclosing a leaden one, was low- 
ered. Two bundles of hay were spread over the coffin, and 
then the earth was shovelled in, and in a short time all that 



450 HENRY M. STANLEY 

was mortal of a dearly-loved man lay beneath a common 
mound. 

July 5th. Attended a Garden-party at Marlborough House. 
I generally dislike these mobs of people; but I met several 
interesting characters here, and, of course, the Prince and 
Princess of Wales were, as usual, charming. 

July 13th. Glanced over Burton's Life — it is written by his 
wife. It is very interesting, but the real Burton is not to be 
found in this book; that is, as he was to a keen observer 
of his character and actions. 

During the autumn, I received the following letters from Stanley ; 

Cromer, October 17th, 1893, Yesterday was a most enjoy- 
able day for me. I feel its effects in an all-round completeness 
of health. 

At 8.50 A. M., I was off by slow train, creeping, creeping 
west, within view of the sea for some time, then turning round 
a great horseshoe curve to east, as though the railway pro- 
jectors had thought it necessary to show all that was really 
beautiful in these parts before taking the traveller towards the 
mouth of the Yare. 

As I have been immensely pleased with the views so gained, 
I am grateful. All this part of East Anglia is wholly new to 
me, and not yet having you to talk to, my inward comments 
upon what I saw were more exclamatory than otherwise. 

The beauty of this country is like the beauty of a fair Puri- 
tan ; it is modest, and wholesome ; no fiashiness, nor regality, 
no proud uplift of majesty, no flaunting of wealth, or sugges- 
tion of worldliness ; but quiet English homesteads, and little 
church-loving villages, tidy copses, lowly vales, and sweet, 
modest hills, breathed over by the sea-air, which the lungs 
inhale with grateful gasps. 

By half-past eleven we rolled into Yarmouth, and, with only 
an umbrella in hand, I made my way to the sea, by a street 
which has some very nice houses of the modern Surrey-villa 
type. This was the reverse of what I had expected to see. 
Presently, I was on the parade, a straight two miles, flanked 
on one side by a long line of sea-side houses, and on the other 
by a broad, sandy strand, smoothly sloping to a greenish sea. 
Three or four piers running out from the drive caused me to 



POLITICS AND FRIENDS 451 

think that the place must be crowded in the season. I can 
imagine the fine expanse of sands populous with children, 
nurses, and parents ; music, in the air, from the band-stands, 
and a brisk circulation of human beings from all parts around ; 
the famous Yarmouth yawls, doing a good business with the 
ambitious youths, who wish to boast of having sailed on the 
sea, when they return from their holidays; the seats com- 
fortably filled with those who wish to fill the eye with the 
sights of the sea, and the ear with the sound of artificial music, 
blended with the countless whispers of the waves ! 

I strode down this parade, debating many things in my 
mind. I went past a military or naval hospital, a battery of 
old-fashioned, muzzle-loaders, which I fancy are not of much 
use except as means of drilling volunteers; then I came to 
a tall monument to Nelson — at a point of land given up 
to rubbish and net-drying, when I found that I had been trav- 
elling parallel with the Yare, and was now at its mouth. I 
crossed this point, and on coming to the river, walked up 
along the interesting quay. I was well rewarded, for as pic- 
turesque a sight as can be found in any sea-side town, in any 
country, met me. 

The river is narrow, not quite the width of the Maritime 
Canal of Suez, I should say, but every inch of it seems service- 
able to commerce. The useful stream is crowded with coast 
shipping, trawlers, luggers, small steamers, and inland barges, 
which lie mainly in a long line alongside this quay. It did my 
heart good to see the deep-bellied, strong, substantial vessels 
of the fisher-class, and still more entertainment I obtained in 
viewing the types of men who handled the fish, and the salt. 
The seed of the old vikings and Anglian invaders of Britain 
were all round me, as fond of the sea as their brave old 
ancestors ! 

I saw some splendid specimens of manhood among them, 
who were, I am certain, as proud of their avocation as the 
Rothschilds can be of banking. It was far better than going 
to a theatre to watch the healthy fellows swinging up their 
crates of salted herrings — the gusto of hoisting, hand-over- 
hand — the breezy, hearty lightsomeness of action — the faces 
as truly reflecting the gladness of the heart as the summer 
sea obeys the summer air. 



452 HENRY M. STANLEY 

I turned away deeply gratified by the sight, and sure that 
these fellows thought little of Home-Rule and other disturb- 
ing questions. 

On reaching a bridge across the Yare, I found myself in 
* Hall quay ' with the Cromwell House, Star, Crown, and 
Anchor, and other old-fashioned houses. Then I turned into 
one of the rows, as the narrow alley-like streets are called, 
taking brief glances at the cheap wares for sale — boots, shod 
with iron, the nails recalling memories of early farm-life ; muf- 
flers of past days; 'two-penny-ha' -penny' wares in general, 
suitable for the slim purses of poor holiday-makers. 

Then, after a long tour, I struck into a street running 
towards the sea, where the quieter people love to brood and 
dream away their summer. Finally, I came to the ' Queen's, ' 
ordered my lunch, and afterwards took train to Norwich. As 
I was not yet too tired for sight-seeing, I drove to the Cathe- 
dral. It is like a long Parish-church within. The gateways are 
grim-looking objects, similar to many I have seen elsewhere, 
but quite ancient and venerable. The Cloisters, however, are 
grand, over one hundred and fifty feet square, and as good as 
we saw in Italy, to my mind. The Close has a remarkably 
ecclesiastical privacy and respectability about it, but had not 
enough greenery, green sward or foliage, to be perfect. Hence 
I wandered to the Castle, about which I had read so much in 
a lately-published romance. 

What one sees is only a modern representation of the fine 
old keep, around which the writer had woven his story, and I 
suppose it is faithful to the original, without ; but through the 
windows one sees a glass roof, and then it is evident that the 
building is only a shell, got up as for a Chicago Exhibition. 

The mound on which it stands, and the deep, dry ditch 
around, are sufficiently ancient. As I walked around the 
Castle, old Norwich looked enchanting. I cannot tell whether 
the town is worth looking at, but I have seldom seen one 
which appeared to promise so much. The worst of these old 
towns is that their hotels are always so depressing. If the 
Grand Hotel of Cromer was at Yarmouth, it would totally 
change the character of the town, and so would a similar one 
for Norwich. On the Continent, they have just as interesting 
old towns to show the visitor, but they have also good hotels. 



POLITICS AND FRIENDS 453 

Yarmouth beach is equal to that of Cromer, but the hotels are 
deadly-dull places. 

Well, after a good three hours' walk, I took the train for 
Cromer. It was a happy thought of mine coming here. I love 
to look at the sea, and hear the windows rattle, and the sough- 
ing of the waves ; and between me and these delights, nothing 
human intervenes. For the sight of the sea is better than 
the sight of any human face just now. Whenever the nerves 
quiver with unrest, depend upon it, the ocean and the songs 
of the wind are more soothing than anything else ; so when 
you arrive you will find me purified, and renovated somewhat, 
by this ogling with quiet nature. 

Cromer, October, 1893. How I do begrudge the time spent 
on trifles, interminable waste of time, and prodigal waste of 
precious life as though our hours were exhaustless. When I 
think of it ! Ah, but no more ! That way madness lies ! Oh ! I 
am delighted with this Norfolk air, and this hotel, this rest, the 
tranquillizing effect — the deep inhalations, the pure God- 
blest air — the wonderful repose of the sea ! When you join me 
here, how we shall enjoy ourselves! 

Yesterday, while on my afternoon walk, I felt such a gust of 
joy, such a rapturous up-springing of joy to my very finger- 
tips, that I was all amazement at its suddenness. What was 
the cause? Only three miles of deserted sand-beach, a wide, 
illimitable sea, rolling from the east. Roll after roll of white- 
topped surge sounding on the shore, deep, solemn, continuous, 
as driven by a breeze, which penetrated into the farthest 
recesses of the lungs, and made them ache with fulness, and 
whipped the blood into a glow! Presently, I respond to the 
influence ; I condescend to stoop, and whisk the round pebbles 
on the glorious floor of sand, smooth as asphalt. I burst out 
into song. Fancy ! Years and years ago, I think I sang. The 
spirits were in an ecstasy, for the music of the waves, and the 
keen, salt wind, laden with scent of the sea, the absolute soli- 
tude, the immensity of my domain, caused me to sing for joy ! 

I knew there was something of my real old self, the lees, as 
it were, in me still ; — but, such is civilised man, he enters 
a groove, and exit there is none, until solitariness discovers 
the boy, lying hidden under a thick husk of civilised cus- 
tom ! This solitude is so glorious, we must try and secure it 



454 HENRY M. STANLEY 

for three months out of each year. Yes, this is glorious ! No 
Africa for me, if I can get such solitude in England ! ! 

There is a fox-terrier here, the duplicate of my old Randy 
in Africa, smooth-haired, the white like cream, the black on 
him deep sable, simply beautiful, a gentleman all over, under- 
stands every word, automatically obsequious ; lies down with 
a thump, rises with a spring, makes faces like an actor ! Say 
' Rats ! ' — he wants to tear the room to pieces, he is sure he 
sees what is only in your own imagination ! Why, his very tail 
is eloquent ! I seem to understand every inclination or perpen- 
dicular of it! This dog is the embodiment of alertness and 
intelligence. The pity of it is, he is not for sale; no money 
would buy him. I would give twenty pounds for him, I should 
so like you to realise what a perfect dog can be ! 

Your patience may make something of our dog in time, but 
his nature is not gentle to begin with. This dog, as I said, is a 
gentleman — yet while gentle to friends, bold as a lion to all 
vermin — human and other. 

He attracted my attention three days ago, as he was out- 
side the hotel-door, beseeching to come in. He saw me take 
a step as though to go on my way, his eyes became more lim- 
pid, he whined ; had he spoken English, I could not have 
understood him better! 

November 15th, 1893. I left Manchester yesterday at 
noon, and arrived in London at 5 P. m., and found a mild 
kind of November fog and damp, cold weather here. After 
an anchorite's dinner, with a bottle of Apollinaris, I drove off 
to the Smoking-concert at the Lambeth. The programme 
consists of comic songs, ballads, and recitations, as usual ; 
just when the smoke was amounting to asphyxiation, I was 
asked to * say a few words.' I saw that my audience was more 
than usually mixed, very boyish young fellows, young girls, 
and many, not- very-intellectual-looking, men and women. 
The subjects chosen by me were thfe Matabele War, and the 
present Coal-war or Strike. In order to make the Matabele 
War comprehensible to the majority, I had to use the vernacu- 
lar freely, and describe the state of things in South Africa, 
just as I would to a camp of soldiers. 

In doing this, I made use of the illustration of an English- 
man, living in a rented house, being interfered with in his 



POLITICS AND FRIENDS 455 

domestic government by a burly landlord, who Insisted on 
coming into his house at all hours of the day, and clubbing his 
servants; and who, on the pretence of searching for his lost 
dog and cat, in his tenant's house, marched away with the 
Englishman's dog and other trifles. You who know the Eng- 
lishman, I went on, when in his house, after he has paid his 
rent and all just debts; you can best tell what his conduct 
would be ! It strikes me, I said, that the average man would 
undoubtedly 'boot' the landlord, and land him in the street 
pretty quickly. Well, just what the Englishman in Lambeth 
would do, Cecil Rhodes did in South Africa with Lobengula. 
He paid his rent regularly, one thousand two hundred pounds 
a year or so, besides many hundreds of rifles, and ammunition 
to match, and other gifts, for the right to manage Mashona- 
land as he saw fit. Now in the concession to Rhodes, Loben- 
gula had reserved no rights to meddle in the territory. There- 
fore, when, under the plea that his cattle had been stolen 
by Rhodes's servants, or subjects, the Mashonas, Lobengula 
marched into Rhodes's territory and slaughtered the Mashonas 
and took the white man's cattle, besides creating a general 
scare among the outlying farmers, and the isolated miners, — 
Jameson, who was acting as Rhodes's steward, sent the sub- 
agent Lendy upon the tracks of the high-handed Matabele, — 
hence the war. 

This little exposition took amazingly, and there was not 
one dissentient voice. 

About the Coal-war I was equally frank, and said, in con- 
clusion, that, if I had any money to spare at the present time, 
it would not be given to men who were determined to be 
sulky, and who, to spite the coal-owners, preferred to starve, 
but to those poor, striving people, who, though they had 
nothing to do with the dispute between miners and coal-owners, 
had to bear the same misery which the miners were supposed 
to suffer from, and who were obliged to pinch and economise 
in food, in order not to be without coals. This drew a tre- 
mendous burst of cheers, and ' Aye, aye, that is true.' 

Some very bad cigars and black coffee were thrust upon 
me, and I had to take a cigar, and a teaspoonful of the 
coffee ; neither, you may rest assured, did me any good ! 

Yesterday, I read W. T. Stead's last brochure, * 2 and 2 



456 HENRY M. STANLEY 

make 4.* — I think it is very good. Stead aims to be the 
' universal provider * for such people as cannot so well provide 
for themselves. He is full of ideas, and I marvel how he 
manages to find time to write as he does*; he has mortgaged 
his life for the benefit of the many sheep in London, who look 
to him as to a shepherd. 

The * Daily Paper,' of which I have a specimen, may be 
made very useful ; and I hope he will succeed with it ; but 
it does not touch the needs of the aristocratic, learned, and 
the upper-middle class. Some day, I hope some other type of 
Stead will think of them, and bring out a high-class journal 
which shall provide the best and truest news, affecting all 
political, commercial, monetary, manufacturing, and indus- 
trial questions at home and abroad; not forgetting the very 
best books published, not only in England, but in Europe, and 
America, and from which ' Sport' of all kinds will be banished. 

It ought to be printed on good paper, and decent type ; the 
editorials should be short; the paper should not be larger 
than the ' Spectator,' and the pages should be cut. I quite 
agree with Stead that it is about time we should get rid of 
the big sheets, and the paper-cutter. Wherefore I wish Stead 
all success, and that, some day, one may arise who will serve 
the higher intelligences in the country, with that same zeal, 
brightness, and inventiveness, which Stead devotes to the 
masses. Now I have faithfully said my say, and send you 
hearty greetings. 

November 17th, 1893. I have been to Bedford, and am 
back. My inviter and entertainer was Mr. A. Talbot, a Master 
of the Grammar School at Bedford. This school was founded 
in 1552, by Sir William Harper, a Lord Mayor of London, 
who endowed it with land which, at the time, brought only 
one hundred and sixty pounds a year, but which has since 
grown to be sixteen thousand pounds a year. A new Grammar 
School was completed three years ago, at a cost of thirty 
thousand pounds, and is a magnificent structure of red brick 
with stone facings. Its Hall is superb, between forty and fifty 
feet high, and about one hundred feet, by forty feet. It was 
in this Hall I lectured to a very crowded audience. 

The new lecture on/Emin' was received in perfect silence 
until I finished, when the applause was long and most hearty. 



POLITICS AND FRIENDS 457 

But, to my astonishment, after all my pains to prune it down, 
it lasted one hour and fifty minutes in delivery. As I drew 
near the catastrophe, you could have heard a pin drop — and 
I really felt emotional, and was conscious that every soul 
sympathised with me when I came to the meeting of the 
avenger of blood and his victim, Emin.^ 

Strange ! I read in a telegram in the * Standard,' which came 
to the house before I left, that Said-bin- Abed, the avenger, 
had been caught by the Belgian officers at Kirundu (which 
I know well), was condemned to death, and shot. Thus retri- 
bution overtook him, too ! 

Few in this country know that I am the prime cause of 
this advance of the Belgians against the Arab slave-raiders. 
Indeed, people little realise how I have practically destroyed 
this terrible slave-trade, by cutting it down at its very roots. 
I have also been as fatal to Tippu-Tib, Rashid, his nephew, 
who captured Stanley Falls from Captain Deane, Tippu-Tib's 
son, Muini Mubala, and, lastly, Said-bin-Abed, — the son of my 
old host, ' Tanganyika,' as Abed-bin-Salim was called — as if 
I had led the avengers myself, which I was very much solicited 
to do. 

It has all been part of the policy I chalked out for myself 
in Africa, and urged repeatedly on the King of the Belgians, at 
every interview I have had with him, with one paramount 
object in view, — the destruction of the slave- traffic. 

At this very time, we have a great scheme which must not 
be disclosed, no ! not even to you, yet ! but which you may 
rest assured is for the ultimate benefit of that dark humanity 
in the Lualaba region. 

Of course, military men, especially continentals, are rather 
more severe than I should have been; for, if I had caught 
Said-bin-Abed, I should have sent him to Belgium, even 
though he murdered Emin, or had murdered a friend. But 
the suppression of the Arabs had to be ; and my prophecy to 
Charles Allen, of the Anti-slavery cause, that I made to him in 
June, 1890, has come to pass. I said that 'in the next five 
years, I should have done more for the Anti-slavery cause 
than all the Anti-slavery Societies in Europe could have 
done,' and it is done, in the complete conquest of those 

* See page 375. 



458 HENRY M. STANLEY 

receivers and raiders, who have been so often mentioned in 
my lectures! 

The king did not wish to proceed to extremes, but I drove 
home every argument I could think of, each time I met him, 
or wrote, to prove that it was essential. 'Yet,' I said, 'at the 
first sign of submission, remember mercy ; but exercise it only 
when they have laid down their arms.' When the Belgians 
have reached Tanganyika Lake, and either drive the surviving 
Arabs across the lake, or into unconditional submission, the 
work may be considered over. The death of so many of my 
officers and men will then have been amply avenged ; and an 
era of peace for the poor, persecuted natives will begin. 

Mr. Phillpots, the Headmaster, I forgot to say, introduced 
me very nicely indeed by touching on the six journeys I have 
made to Africa, leaving me to speak upon the seventh. After 
the lecture, Mr. Phillpots, and all the Masters, supped at Mr. 
Talbot's, and I was in such a vein, that I kept them all up 
until it was a little after i A. m. I was horrified ! and, soon 
after the departure of the guests, I jumped into bed, and was 
fast asleep within a few minutes. 

I am at the Second Volume of Lowell, and time flies by so 
rapidly that I will not be able to read Lugard's book for a 
few days yet. 

The First Volume of Lowell's Letters gives us a pretty clear 
idea of the man. I see in him the type of a literary character, 
whose nature I have often been made acquainted with in the 
past, though not in quite so cultured a form as in Lowell. 

But, with all his culture, learning, and poetry, and though 
he is so kind-hearted, loving, sympathetic, ready to oblige, 
he is what I should call in England, 'provincial,' in every 
feeling. Though I never saw Lowell face to face, I feel as if 
I could make a presentment of every characteristic lineament, 
his walk, gesture, bearing, the smile on his face, the genial 
bluish-grey eye, even to his inches." 

These Letters, however, only reveal the generous temper, 
humour, moods, and his fond weaknesses. We should know 
more about his inward thoughts, his best views of men, and 
matters political, literary, social, etc., etc., to get a complete 
knowledge of him. These letters only refer to Lowell and his 
immediate acquaintances, and there are very few things in 



POLITICS AND FRIENDS 459 

them that a reader would care to hear twice. I could scarcely 
point to a dozen sentences, all told, that compel a pause. 

How different this is from what one could show in Ruskin, 
the prose poet of England, or in Carlyle; or in Boswell's 
Johnson, or in De Quincey, even ! Yet, I admit, it is unfair to 
judge Lowell by his Letters only, and that we should exam- 
ine his prose and poetry before deciding. Twice, only, was 
I thrilled, just a little, and then from sympathy with the 
bereaved husband and father. 

Had Lowell kept a journal like Sir Walter Scott, I feel the 
world would have had something worth reading. Sometimes I 
appear to look, as through a window, into the heart of the 
writer and his correspondent. There is something too fre- 
quent, also, in the phrase, 'I do not care what you think of my 
books, but I want you to like me ! ' I do not wish to pursue this 
theme, for fear you will get the impression that I do not like 
Lowell; but I do heartily like him; and, again, I think his 
journal would have been infinitely better.^ 

November 20th, 1893. This year has been fatal to my 
friends : Mackinnon, Parke, and now my best friend, Alexan- 
der Low Bruce.^ He was one of the staunchest, wisest, trust- 
iest men I ever knew. This England has some other men as 
worthy, as sensible, as good, as he, but it is not likely it will 
be my good fortune to meet again a man of this kind to 
whom I could expose all that is in my breast with full reliance 
on his sympathy and his honour. I always felt that Bruce 
was like a dear brother to me. 

November 29th. This is the severest blow I have yet re- 
ceived. Bruce was more of my own age than either Mackin- 
non, or Parke, and it is perhaps owing in a measure to that 
fact, that his views of men and affairs were more congenial, 
or more in harmony with my own. 

Mackinnon belonged to an older generation, and was the 
centre of many interests in which I had no concern. Parke 
again was of a younger generation, and with all his sweet, 
simple nature I found it difficult to maintain that level of 
ideas which belonged to his age. But, with Bruce, it was wholly 

' A further reference to Lowell is given in the letter dated November 27, 1893. — D. S. 
' A. L. Bruce married Livingstone's daughter Agnes, who survives him. The Living- 
stone family were always close and greatly-valued friends of Stanley. — D. S. 



46o HENRY M. STANLEY 

different. His judgement was formed, and he was in the free 
exercise of his developed faculties. He was originally of a 
stronger fibre than either Mackinnon or Parke, i. e., from 
the common-sense point of view. He might not have the bold, 
business audacity of Mackinnon, nor his keen foresight for 
investments, but his level-headedness was more marked. One 
felt that Bruce's judgement could be trusted, not only in 
business matters, but in every concern included in prac- 
tical life. 

He was not a literary man, but truly imperial, and highly 
intelligent, endowed with such large sympathies, that nothing 
appertaining to British interests was too great or too small 
for him. In politics, he was simply indefatigable in behalf 
of the Union. Formerly a Liberal like myself, Gladstone's 
sudden * volte-face' was too much for him, which proves him 
to be more attached to principles than to whims. 

The amount of correspondence entailed on him by the influ- 
ence he exercised in South Scotland was something extraor- 
dinary; his bill for postage must have been unusual. His 
industry was incredible. His labours did not fray that kindly 
temper of his in the least, nor diminish the hearty, friendly 
glance of his eyes. I know no man living among my acquaint- 
ances who took life with such a delightful sense of enjoy- 
ment, and appeared so uniformly contented. Considering his 
remarkably penetrative discernment of character, this was 
the more to be wondered at. I really envied him for this. He 
could look into the face of a declared opponent, and, though 
I watched, I could not detect the slightest wavering of that 
honest, clear, straight look of kindness which was a recog- 
nised characteristic of Bruce. I could not do it : when I love, 
I love ; and when I disagree, I cannot hide it ! 

I should say, though I do not pretend to that intimate 
knowledge of his boyhood that a relative or school-mate 
might have, his life must have beert a happy one. It is nearly 
twenty years since I first knew him, and, during that time, 
there has been a steady growth of affection and esteem for 
him. I could have been contented on a desert island with 
Bruce, because contact with him made one feel stronger and 
nobler. Well, my dear, knowing and loving Bruce as you 
know I did, you can appreciate my present feelings. 



POLITICS AND FRIENDS 461 

These repeated blows make me less and less regardful of 
worldliness in every form. Indeed, I have done with the world, 
though there are a number of little things that I should do 
before quite surrendering myself to the inevitable. I wonder, 
indeed, that I am still here, — I, who, during thirty-five 
years, have been subjected to the evils of almost every climate, 
racked by over three hundred fevers, dosed with an incon- 
ceivable quantity of medicine, shaken through every nerve 
by awful experiences, yet here I am ! and Bruce, and Parke, 
and Mackinnon, are gone ; I write this to-day as sound, ap- 
parently, as when I started on my wanderings; but then a 
week hence, where shall I be? 

November 27th, 1893. 

My dear D., — I finished Volume Two of Lowell's Letters 
yesterday. My former opinion needs slight modification, or 
rather expansion; it was incomplete, as any opinion of an 
unfinished career must be. 

But, now that the career is ended, and the Life is closed, I 
am at liberty to amplify what I would willingly have said, at 
once, of any promising man who had continued in consistent 
goodness, that the expectations formed have been fulfilled. 
Soon after beginning the Second Volume the attention is 
not so often arrested by signs of youthful vanity. He has no 
sooner passed middle age, than one's love for the writer grows 
more and more complete. He is a ^litterateur' above all things, 
to the last; but you also observe his growth from letter to 
letter into a noble-hearted, affectionate, upright old man. 

He is not free, to the closing letter, of the Lowellian imper- 
fections; but these do not detract from the esteem which I 
find to be increasing for him; like the weaknesses of some 
of one's personal friends, I rather like Lowell the better for 
them, for they lighten one's mood of severe respect towards 
him. After dipping into one or two specimens of poetry which 
the book contains, his letters do not reveal him wholly, in my 
opinion. There is one to 'Phoebe' which deeply moved me, 
and I feel convinced there must be gems of thought among his 
poetical productions. As I closed the books, Lowell's image, 
though I never saw him, came vividly before me as he sat 
in Elmwood library, listening to the leafy swirl without, the 



462 HENRY M. STANLEY 

strange sounds made by winds in his ample chimney, and the 
shrill calls, 'wee-wee,' of the mice behind the white wainscot- 
ing! 

May his covering of earth lie lightly, and his soul be in 
perfect communion with his loved dead ! 

December 12th, 1893. Sir Charles and Lady Euan Smith, 
Mr. E. L. Berkley, of Zanzibar, and Mr. H. Babington Smith 
lunched with us. 

Sir Charles told me that he once said to Emin Pasha, * Well, 
Pasha, the whole of Europe is expecting you ! There are lots 
of invitations awaiting your convenience!' Emin replied, 

* Ah ! I can't go yet. I must kill some more Arabs.' Poor old 
fellow! he did kill a few, and then came a time when the 
Arabs killed him ! 

January ist, 1894. Sir Samuel White Baker died yesterday. 
Some years ago I had the photographs of the four greatest 
travellers of the period, Livingstone, Burton, Speke, and 
Baker, enlarged, and framed them all together. They are all 
dead now. Baker being the last to go ! 

Each was grand in his own way : Livingstone, as a mission- 
ary explorer, and the first of the four to begin the work of 
making known the unexplored heart of Africa, and he was 
deservedly the most famous ; Burton, as a restless wanderer in 
foreign lands, and a remarkable and indefatigable writer; 
Speke, the hunter-explorer, with strong geographical instincts, 
was second to Livingstone for his explorations; Baker, as a 
hunter, carried his hunting into unknown parts, and dis- 
tinguished himself by his discovery of the Albert Nyanza, 
and by his adventures. 

The Prince of Wales became interested in him, and through 
the influence of the Prince, he was appointed Egyptian pro- 
consul of the Upper Nile regions at a munificent salary. 
Baker was not an explorer in the sense that Livingstone and 
Speke were, and, consequently, beyond the discovery of the 
existence of the Albert Lake, he did little to make the Upper 
Nile region known. The record of his five years' rather vio- 
lent administration of Equatoria is given in his book called 

♦ Ismailia' ; and it will be seen there that he left the region 
surrounding Ismailia almost as unknown, after his term of 



POLITICS AND FRIENDS 463 

service was over, as when he reached it to begin his duties as 
Administrator. 

Apart from this, however, he was a fine fellow — physically- 
strong, masterful, and sensible ; as a brave hunter, he was un- 
matched ; as a writer of travels, he was a great success. He was 
a typical Conservative Englishman ; he knew by intuition what 
Englishmen like to hear of their countrymen's doings, which, 
added to his artistic style of writing, charmed his readers. 

Another thing to his credit, be it said by me, who know 
whereof I am speaking, he was too great in mind, and too 
dignified in character, to belong to any geographical clique, 
and join in the partisan warfare which raged in Savile Row 
between 1860-80. He rather took the opposite way, and did 
not disdain to speak a good word for any explorer who hap- 
pened to be an object of attack at the time. 

November 28th. The death of another friend is to-day 
announced. This time it is Charles Edward Ingham, ex- 
guardsman and missionary, whom I employed, in 1887, for my 
transport service. He is reported as having been killed by an 
elephant. It is not long ago I recorded in these pages the 
death of his good and beautiful wife. This devoted couple 
were wonderful for their piety, and their devotion to the 
negroes of the Congo. 

Early in 1894, Stanley caught cold, and had a succession of ma- 
larial attacks. Change of air was advised, and he went to the Isle of 
Wight, whore I joined him a few days later. I here give extracts from 
his letter. 

Shanklin, March 15th, 1894. I came here from Fresh- 
water, because that place did not agree with me, and because 
the accommodation provided was wretched, and the rooms 
ill-ventilated. I wonder how many people died in -the room I 
occupied ? I fancied their spirits sailing about from corner to 
corner, trying to get out into the air, and at night settling 
around my head, disturbing my sleep in consequence ! I have 
been reading Vasari's 'Machiavelli,' and, I am thankful to say, 
he has removed the disagreeable impression I had conceived 
of his principles from a book I read about him twenty-five 
years ago ; or, perhaps my more mature age has enabled me to 
understand him better. 

Vasari gives one chapter of comments, from various writers, 



464 HENRY M. STANLEY 

on him; but the one that comes nearest the right judgement 
on him is Bacon, who said that gratitude was due to him, and 
to those Hke him, who study that which men do, instead of 
that which they ought to do. In fact, Machiavelli has writ- 
ten about contemporaneous Italy just as we speak privately, 
but dare not talk openly, of our political world. 

When we described Gladstone, before his retirement, we 
called him by the euphonious term of the 'old Parliamentary 
hand.' What did we mean by that, we who are his opponents ? 
We meant it in this strictly Machiavellian sense. This would 
once have shocked me, just as many of the Florentine's crit- 
ics, especially Frederick the Great, affected to be ; yet Freder- 
ick, and Napoleon, and almost every eminent English politi- 
cian, except Balfour, were, and are. Machiavellian, and are 
bound to be ! 

The following passage is taken from the Journal : — 

October 29th, 1894. D. and I left London for Dolaucothy, 
Llanwrda, S. Wales, to spend three days with Sir James and 
Lady Hills-Johnes.^ Lord Roberts and his daughter Eileen 
were there. Sir James is a delightful host, a most kind, 
straightforward soldier. He is a V. C., because of dashing 
exploits in India. He has been Governor of Cabul. 

Lord Roberts, Sir James, and myself were photographed 
by Lady Hills-Johnes. When the photograph came out, it was 
seen that we were all three of the same height, with a sort of 
brother-like resemblance. 

Sir James is a very winning character, for he takes one's 
good-will and affection by storm. His heart is white and clean. 
As for Lady Hills-Johnes, her rare gifts of intellect and sym- 
pathy penetrate the heart, like welcome warmth. 

I have been more talkative in this house than I have been 
in any house I can remember, except Newstead Abbey, where 
one was stimulated by that exceptional, most loveable being, 
Mrs. Webb. 

I happened to be full of speech, and the Hills-Johnes had 
the gift of knowing how to make me talk. So, what with full 
freedom of speech, friendly faces, and genuine sympathy, I 

* Lieutenant-general Sir James Hills-Johnes, G. C. B., V. C, who was dangerously 
wounded in the Indian Mutiny, where he won the V. C, for his extraordinary valour. 
— D. S. 



POLITICS AND FRIENDS 465 

was very happy, and I fear I shall leave here with a reputation 
for loquacity. When I leave, I shall cork up again, and be my 
reserved self ! 

November 7th, Wednesday. Went to the Queen's Hall to 
hear Lord Salisbury speak. Again I was struck by the want 
of the proper spirit which makes the orator. His appearance, 
especially his head, large brow, and sonorous voice, his diction, 
all befit the orator ; but the kindling animation, that fire which 
warms an audience, is absent. The listener must needs follow 
a sage like the Marquis, with interest ; but what an event it 
would be in the memory of those who haunt political gather- 
ings of this kind, if, suddenly, he dropped his apparent list- 
lessness, and were to speak like a man of genuine feeling, to 
feeling men ! It would be a sight to see the effect on the warm- 
hearted audience ! 

Christmas, 1894, we spent on the Riviera, and here Stanley 
wrote part of his Autobiography, which he had commenced the year 
before. 

Monte Carlo. Have written a few pages of my Auto- 
biography, but these spasmodic touches are naturally detri- 
mental to style. 



CHAPTER XXII 
IN PARLIAMENT 

IN June, 1895, Parliament was dissolved, and active electioneering 
commenced. On Monday, July 15, 1895, Stanley was elected 
M. P. for North Lambeth, with a majority of four hundred and 
five. Stanley had held many meetings, and I had worked very hard, 
so that when it came to polling-day, we were both extremely tired. 
At this contest, the Radical Press distinguished itself by virulent 
and abusive attacks. One leading Liberal journal, on the eve of the 
Election, wrote that * Mr. Stanley's course through Africa had been 
like that of a red-hot poker drawn across a blanket,' and that 'he 
nightly slept on a pillow steeped in blood ! ! ' I felt too nervous and 
unstrung to be present at the counting of votes. I therefore decided 
to remain at the little Club in the York Road, Lambeth, there to 
await Stanley. I crept upstairs, to a dark and empty attic, for I knew 
that between eleven and twelve o'clock I should see the signal : a red 
flash against the night sky, if we had won ; a blue light, if our oppo- 
nent, the Radical candidate, were returned. 

As I knelt by the low window, looking out on the confused mass 
of roofs and chimneys, hardly distinguishable against the dark sky, 
I thought passionately of how I had worked and striven for this day ; 
that because Stanley had consented to stand again, I had vowed (if 
it were possible, by personal effort, to help towards it) that he should 
be returned ! I felt how great he was, and I prayed that he might 
not be defeated, and that I might thereby keep him from returning 
to Africa. 

The hours passed slowly. The roar of London, as of a great loom, 
sounded in my ears, with the pounding of my arteries ; and still my 
eyes were steadily fixed westward, where, about a half a mile away, 
the votes were being counted ; and I kept thinking of Stanley. Sud- 
denly, the sky flushed pink over the roofs; to the west, a rosy fog 
seemed gently to rise, and creep over the sky; and, soon, a distant, 
tumultuous roar came rolling like an incoming tide, and I went 
down to meet my Stanley ! 

When I reached the crudely-lighted Club-room, and stood by the 
door, the shout of multitudes was overwhelming. Men, in black 
masses, were surging up the street. They poured in, Stanley in their 
midst, looking white and very stern. He was seized, and swung up 
like a feather, on men's shoulders, and carried to a table at the fur- 
ther end of the Hall. As he passed me, I caught his hand ; it was so 
cold, it seemed to freeze mine! He was called upon for a speech. 
* Speak to us, Stanley,' was shouted. Stanley merely drew himself up, 



IN PARLIAMENT 467 

and, with a steady look, very characteristic, said quietly, * Gentle- 
men, I thank you, and now, good-night! ' In a few minutes, he and 
I were stepping into a hansom cab in a back street. During the drive 
we did not speak. In the hall of our home, I thought he would say 
something about the victory, but he only smiled at me, and said, ' I 
think we both need rest; and now for a pipe.' We both, as Stanley 
said, needed rest ; I was tired out, and left London for the Engadine, 
whilst Stanley remained for the Opening of Parliament. He promised 
to keep a Journal of his first impressions of the House of Commons, 
and sent the pages to me day by day. I here give extracts from that 
'Journal of one week in the House of Commons.' 

August 1 2th, 1895. The architect of the House must have 
been very deficient in sense of proportion, it seems to me. I 
think, of all the Parliament Houses I ever saw, I am obliged to 
confess that any of the State Houses in America would offer 
superior accommodation to the members. Where are the desks 
for the members, the comfortable, independent chairs, the 
conveniences for making notes, and keeping papers? In con- 
trast to what my mind recalls of other Chambers, this House 
is singularly unfurnished. Money has been lavished on walls 
and carved galleries, but nothing has been spent on con- 
veniences. Then, again, the arrangements : the two Parties, 
opposed in feeling and principle, have here to confront one 
another, and present their sides to the Speaker, instead of 
their faces. Surely we ought to find something more congenial 
to look at than sour-looking opponents ! 

At ten minutes to two, I was back in the House. It was now 
crowded, every seat was occupied. Cross-benches, and under 
the Gallery, as well as both doorways. Then the House hushed, 
and in came an officer from the Lords, in old-fashioned cos- 
tume of black, and a wig, gingerly carrying a gilded rod. He 
walked trippingly along the floor of the House to our table, 
at which sat three old-fashioned and be-gowned officers, and 
delivered a message in a not very clear voice. Whereupon the 
centre officer stood up, and advanced from behind the table 
towards him, the one with the gilded rod tripping mincingly 
backward. When they were both near the door, G. J, Goschen 
and a few other leaders strode after him ; then, from either side 
of the House, members poured and formed procession, until 
there were probably three hundred in it. 

We marched through the passage in twos and threes, pass- 



468 HENRY M. STANLEY 

ing two great Halls crowded with visitors, many of whom were 
ladies. We halted at the Bar of the Lords. Then I knew we 
were in the 'gilded chamber/ which has been so often spoken 
about lately. This was my first view of it, and I looked about 
me curiously. To call it a 'gilded chamber' is a simple exag- 
geration. There was not enough gilding for it to merit that 
term. It was nearly empty, there being about sixteen Peers 
in their seats. Four scarlet-gowned, cock-hatted gentlemen 
sat in front of the Throne, and some twenty ladies occupied 
the settees on the right. 

As soon as our ' Commons' officer, whom we had followed, 
had entered, the clerk of the Lords, standing between him 
and the scarlet-gowned four, commenced reading from an 
elaborately-engraved parchment. He was well into his sub- 
ject before I could get near enough to the Bar to hear his 
voice. I could not distinguish any word he said, but when he 
concluded, the Lord Chancellor — I suppose It was he — 
read in a much clearer voice some message to the effect that 
we could proceed to elect a Speaker. When he concluded, he 
and his three friends took off their hats ; at which we retired, 
betaking ourselves to our own House through the long pas- 
sage by which we had left. 

I met many friends, but I have not been able to exchange 
twelve sensible words with any of them except Mr. Charles 
Darling, Q. C, M. P.,^ and Colonel Denny, M. P. All the rest 
appear to be in a perfect fever. They no sooner grasp your 
hand and pour out congratulations than they turn away to 
another person, and, during their glib greetings, keep looking 
away to someone else. 

I searched the faces on the Radical benches to see if I 
recognised John Burns and James J. O' Kelly. I would not be 
sure of O' Kelly, because he is so different from the slim young 
man I knew in Madrid in 1873 — twenty- three years ago. 

It is too early yet to say whether I shall like the House 
or not. If there is much behaviour like that of Dr. Tanner in 
it, I shall not ; but It Is ominous to me that the man can be 
permitted to behave so badly. 

William Allen, the Northumbrian, was a prominent figure 
among the Radicals, with his American felt hat, and loud grey 

' Now Sir Charles Darling, Judge in the King's Bench Division. 



IN PARLIAMENT 469 

suit. He is certainly a massive fellow ; and I am half-inclined 
to think that he is rather vain, under all that Radical affecta- 
tion of unkemptness. If true, it is a pity; for he must have a 
good heart, and plenty of good sense. 

I have written this out on the spur of the moment, while 
all is fresh in my mind. Mayhap I will send you more of the 
hasty diary, the day after to-morrow. 

Second day, ii\.th Parliament of Her Majesty s reign. 

August 13th. I walked down to the House at 11 A. M. 
Members were just beginning to arrive. Secured my seat, this 
time on an upper bench, behind our leaders, that I might 
be away from the neighbourhood of that ill-mannered Dr. 
Tanner, and not vis-a-vis to the scowling Radicals. 

I strode through the passages to the big ante-hall, where I 
found the Members had begun to gather. One came to me with 
level eyes, and was about to indulge in an ejaculation, when 
I said, * I almost think I know you by your look. You can't be 
O'Kelly?' He softened, and answered 'Yes,' — upon which, 
of course, I expressed my surprise that this stout figure could 
be the slim young man I knew in Madrid, twenty-three years 
ago. At that time he had just been released from a Cuban 
prison, and had been sent to Spain by the Cuban authorities. 
Sickles, the American Minister, obtained his release on parole. 
Now, here he stood, transformed into an elderly legislator ! I 
gently chaffed him that, knowing I had been in London so 
many years, he had never sought my acquaintance. * Tell me, 
honestly,' I said, * was it not because you had become such 
an important public man?' It confused him a little, but 
O'Kelly and I were always pretty direct with each other. 

Just near me was the worthy Kimber of Wandsworth. I 
turned to him, and said, * Now come, have some tenderness 
for a stranger, and tell me something of someone. May we not 
sit together for this one time, and let me hear from you, who 
is who?' 

' By all means, come,* he said, gaily ; and, as it was drawing 
near noon, we entered the House, and we took our seats near 
old Sir John Mowbray. I was fairly placed for observation, 
and sufficiently distant from the Radicals. 

' Who is that gentleman opposite to me, next to John Ellis, 
second in support of Speaker Gully yesterday ? ' — ' That is 



470 HENRY M. STANLEY 

Farquharson, of Aberdeen. That light-haired young man is 
Allen, of Newcastle. The gentleman on the upper bench is 
Sir E. Gourley, of Sunderland; and the one opposite, on the 
other bench, is Herbert Gladstone.' But it is unnecessary to go 
further, you will understand his method. He pointed out quite 
two-score of people, with some distinctive remark about each. 

It was two or three minutes past twelve. A hush fell on the 
House, the doors were thrown open, and in walked Black 
Rod, Captain Butler, straight to the Bar, but daintily, as 
though he were treading consecrated ground. He delivered his 
message to the Speaker, who sat bareheaded, out of courtesy 
to the stranger. Black Rod having backed a certain number 
of paces, the Speaker, William Court Gully, rose, stepped 
down to the floor, and marched resolutely forward. Members 
poured out in greater number than yesterday, as though to 
protect our gallant leader during the perils he was to en- 
counter with the awful Lords. I looked up and down the pro- 
cession, and, really, I think that not only the Speaker but 
the nation might have been proud of us. We made such a 
show ! Of course, the halls were crowded with sight-seers. 

By the time the Speaker was at the Bar, Kimber and I had 
got into the Gallery of the Peers' Chamber, and I now looked 
down upon the scene. The four big-wigs in scarlet and cocked 
hats were before the Throne. They looked so still that they 
reminded me of ' Kintu and his white-headed Elders.' ^ The 
Peers' House was much emptier even than yesterday ; I counted 
five Peers only. The Speaker, backed by the faithful Com- 
mons, demanded freedom of debate, free exercise of their 
ancient' privileges, access to Her Majesty's presence on occa- 
sion, etc., and when he had ended, the Lord Chancellor, im- 
moveable as yesterday, read out that Her Majesty graciously 
approved his election as Speaker, and was pleased to grant 
that her faithful Commons should enjoy, etc., etc., etc. 

It was over ! Back we strode to our House, policemen bare- 
headed now. Our Speaker was full Speaker, if you please, 
and the First Commoner in the realm. We reached our House, 
the Speaker disappeared, and, when we had taken our seats 
again, he presently burst upon the scene. We all rose to our 
feet bareheaded. He was now in full heavy wig and robes. 

' See ' The Legend of Kintu ' in My Dark CQmpqnions (by Stanley). 



IN PARLIAMENT 471 

He had a statelier pace. Irving could not have done it better 
on the Stage. 

He rose to his chair, ampler, nobler, and sat down heavily ; 
we all subsided, putting on our hats. Up rose the Speaker, and 
informed us that he had presented our petition to the Throne, 
and had been graciously received, and all the Commons' 
privileges had been confirmed. He took the opportunity, he 
said, while on his feet, of thanking us once more for the honour 
we had done him. He had not gone far with his speech before 
he said ' I graciously,' and then corrected himself, one or two 
members near me grunting, * Humph.' What will not nervous- 
ness make unhappy fellows say ! He meant to say, ' I sincerely '/ 

We were now to prepare to take the Oath. He took it first, 
Sir Reginald Palgrave delivering it to him. He signed his 
name on the roll, after which the book was brought to the 
table, on which were five New Testaments, and five cards on 
which were these words : — 

* I do solemnly swear to bear faithful and true alle- 
giance to Her Majesty, Queen Victoria, her heirs and successors 
according to law. So help me God.' 

Balfour, Goschen, Harcourt, Fowler, and another, stood up 
at the table, held the book up, repeated the oath, kissed the 
Testament, and each went to subscribe his name on the roll. 
What an Autograph-book, after all have signed it ! 

Another five Ministers came, took the Oath, and departed ; 
another five, and then the Privy Councillors, and after them 
the ordinary Members. And now that stupid English habit of 
rushing occurred, just as they do everywhere, and on every 
occasion, at Queen's levees, at railway-stations, and steamer- 
gangways. An Englishman is a gregarious animal. He must 
rush, and crowd, and jostle, looking as stupidly-amiable as 
he can, but, nevertheless, very much bent on getting some- 
where, along with the crowd. The table could not be seen for 
the fifty or more who formed a solid mass. I waited until 
1. 15 P.M. I then went; the mass was much reduced, but I 
was driven to the table with force. I looked behind. It was 
O'Kelly. 'Keep on,' he said; 'I follow the leader.' 'All right, 
I will pass the Testament to you next.' Two begged for it — 
Colonel Saunderson was one — but I was firm. ' Very sorry, 
Colonel, I have promised." 



472 HENRY M. STANLEY 

I repeated the Oath, kissed the Testament, and handed the 
book to O' Kelly, hoping he will be honest with his Oath, and 
' bear faithful and true allegiance,' etc. ! 

I signed my name in the book, — 'Henry M. Stanley, 
North Lambeth,' — was introduced to Mr. Speaker, who 
knows how to smile, and nod, and shake hands graciously, — 
passed through, and met the doorkeeper, who said, ' Mr. 
Stanley, I presume? ' ' Yes.' 'Ah, I thought I recognised you. 
I heard you lecture once at Kensington,' etc., etc. 

I was shown the way, got out into the street, took a hansom, 
and drove to Mr. [now. Sir Henry] Lucy's, at Ashley Gardens, 
for lunch, where we had an extremely pleasant party. Parted 
at 3.30, and I travelled home, where I looked over a pile of 
Blue-books, and wrote this long entry of the second day of 
Parliamentary life ! 

The 15th inst. was the beginning of work. I was at Prayers 
for the first time. Canon Farrar officiated. There was a 
short exhortation, when we turned our faces to the wall and 
repeated the Lord's Prayer after him; after which, we had 
three short prayers, and the 'Grace,' and it was over. I 
noticed the Members joined heartily on our side in the Lord's 
Prayer. It is at such times that Englishmen appear best to 
me. They yield themselves unreservedly to the customs of 
their forefathers, in utter defiance of the blatant atheism of 
the age. The ceremony was sweetly simple, yet it moved me ; 
and, in my heart, I honoured every Member the more for it. 
I thought of Solomon's beautiful Prayer for Understanding, 
and the object of these supplications was for assistance in the 
right doing of the legislative work before the House. 

The Speaker has grown sensibly, in my estimation, since 
the first day when he sat in the ranks, on the Radical benches. 
Then he appeared a clever, legal-looking member, of somewhat 
high colour, a veritable 'Pleydell' [Scott's 'Guy Mannering']. 
Though I have seen him in his process of transformation into 
the First Commoner, I was not quite prepared for this in- 
creased respect. I suppose the form and ceremony attending 
his coming and going, the ready obedience and respect of 
every Member and official, have somewhat to do with my con- 
version. I feel as if we were going to be proud of him. 

The seconder of the Address was our friend Robertson, of 



IN PARLIAMENT 473 

Hackney, who was in Court dress. He spoke well, but wan- 
dered discursively into matters that seemed to have no appli- 
cation to the Address. He referred slightly, by innuendo, to 
me, as being in the House, with a large knowledge of Africa. 
Dr. Tanner, contravening the usage of the House, cried out, 
' That is Stanley ! * 

After Robertson, up rose Sir William Harcourt in a ponder- 
ous way, extremely old-fashioned and histrionic. I used, in 
my boyhood, to fancy this style was very grand ; but, with 
more mature intelligence, I cannot say I admire it. It is so 
markedly stage-like, that I feel a resentful contempt for it. 
All the time I thought how much better his speech would 
sound if he left off that ponderous manner, and was more 
natural. He, no doubt, has the gift of speech ; but the style is 
superfluous. It is slow and heavy, reminding one of the heavy 
gentlemen of a past age on the boards, playing The Justice ; 
and, naturally, chaff came in freely ; for it all seemed part of 
the comedy. Balfour called it ' easy badinage,' but that is his 
polite way. 

I find that the art of speaking has not been cultivated. Each 
speaker, so far, has shewn that he possesses matter abundantly 
— words flow easily, which make readable speeches; but 
while I did not expect, where it was not needed, any oratorical 
vehemence or action, I did expect what I might call ' the orator- 
ical deportment,' such as would fit the subject-matter. The 
speakers have words and intonations that ought, with im- 
proved manner, to elevate them in the mind of the listener. 
Their hands fidget about books and papers, their bodies sway 
in contrary attitude to the sentiment. I attribute this to want 
of composure, born of nervousness. Yet such veteran speakers 
by this time ought to be above being flurried by a sympathetic 
House. 

Balfour came next, with a long speech, which was un- 
doubtedly a relief. 

Sir Charles Dilke jumped up after Balfour, and he seemed 
to me to come nearer to what I had been expecting to see. His 
voice is showy, but not so sweet as Balfour's. His manner is 
cool, composed, and more appropriate to the spirit of debate, 
as I conceive it. There is an absence of all affectation, so that 
he is vastly preferable to Harcourt. It is a cultivated style ; 



474 HENRY M. STANLEY 

he seems to be sure of his facts, there is no deprecation, neither 
is there haughtiness. He is professionally courteous, and 
holds himself best of all. With the sweet voice of Balfour, his 
own composure and self-possession, I think Dilke would have 
been superior to all. 

Mr. Seton-Karr was also excellent. Matter, style, bearing, 
most becoming ; no hesitancy, doubt, or awkwardness, visible. 
Good-tempered, too. His subject was not such as to call for 
exertion of power ; but he was decidedly agreeable. 

Up rose Mr. Haldane, and gave us a lecture, extremely 
bantering in tone. His whole pose was so different from all 
his predecessors! The solemn ponderousness, and affected 
respect for the House, of Harcourt; the deprecating manner 
of Balfour ; the professional gravity of Dilke, were so opposite 
to the gage-throwing style of Haldane. He is a combatant, 
and only bides his chance. 

John Redmond followed, with a plain, matter-of-fact, but 
good speech. He does not aim at making impressions, but to 
deliver himself of a duty. 

John Dillon was next. He, also, has a thin voice, and speaks 
well ; but, while it would be impossible for him to excite ex- 
cessive admiration, he wins our respect and friendly tolerance. 
There is no arrogance ; but he impresses one as well-meaning, 
though blindly devoted to meaner glories for his country, and 
wholly unconscious of the grander glories that he might obtain 
for Ireland, if he had good sense. 

After Dillon, followed Gerald Balfour, with his brother 
Arthur's voice and manner. He wins our regard for him per- 
sonally, and we feel sure as he goes on that the speaker has a 
lofty idea of his duty, and that he will do it, too, though he die 
for it. There is not a single phrase that expresses anything of 
the kind ; but the air is unmistakeable : neither bludgeons, nor 
knives, nor pistols held to his head would make him budge 
from the performance of duty ! It is a noble pair of brothers — 
Arthur and he ! We are all proud of them ! They are fine per- 
sonalities, ' out and out ! ' 

The impossible Dr. Tanner, however, found that he could 
make objections to them. I was quite thirty-five feet away 
from him, and yet I heard him call him — Gerald — * the 
Baby.' 'Baby does n't know. Oh, they are only snobs,* etc., etc. 



IN PARLIAMENT 475 

There were sixty gentlemen on our side who heard Tanner, 
but all they said was 'Order ! Order !* This, to me, is a wonder- 
ful instance of the courtesy to be found in the House. Sixty 
big, strapping gentlemen can sit still, and hear their chiefs 
insulted, and called 'snobs,' and only call 'Order! Order!' 

'Tay-Pay' followed, which, if it had not been for the 
brogue, would have been equal to the best speech of the 
House. He might have been Curran, Shiel, O'Connell, and 
Burke combined, but the ' brogue' would have reduced his 
oratory to third-rate. Nevertheless, in the construction, copi- 
ousness, command of words, and easy, composed bearing, he 
deserves to rank with Dilke. But the sibilancy of his words 
distracts the ear, and that is a pity. He can be animated, 
though, and at the right time. He made good play with Gerald 
Balfour's expression of an ' unchanging, and an inflexible, 
opposition to Home- Rule.' I have always cared for ' Tay-Pay.' 

At midnight, we rose and left the House. Before I had 
finished my pipe, and a chapter of Grote, it was i A. m. At 
6 A. M. of the 17th, punctually, I was up again, made my 
own tea, and, at 7 A. m., I was at my desk writing this rapid 
sketch for my wife ! 

August 20th. Yesterday was one of the most wearying days 
I have experienced since leaving Africa. To secure a seat at all, 
one has to visit the House at an early hour to write his name, 
and then one had to be on hand for Prayers. The sitting began 
at 3 P.M., and ended this morning at 2.20 — eleven hours and 
forty minutes! We voted seven times, which occupied over 
three hours. We listened to the most dreary twaddle which it 
has ever been my lot to hear ! Tim Healy was up from his seat 
oftener than any two men, and appeared to be maliciously bent 
on tiring us all out. He reminds me, when he speaks, of a 
gentle little zebra, trying to ' moo.' His round glasses, and the 
vast concave between his cheek-bones and eyebrows, give 
him this peculiar resemblance. When he turned to us, and 
said, 'I look across at the boasted Majority, and I cannot say 
I regard it with awe,' his likeness to a little zebra-cow was 
impressed on me by the way he brought out the words. It was 
a perfect, gentle 'moo,' in tone. 

I have now learned to know all the most prominent among 
the Irish Members by sight. There is a marked difference in 



476 HENRY M. STANLEY 

type between them and our Members. The Celtic, or Iberian, 
type affords such striking contrasts to the blonde, high-col- 
oured Anglo-Saxon. There is the melancholy-looking John 
Dillon, who resembles a tall Italian or Spaniard ; there is the 
sanguine Dalziell, like one of the Carlists of my youthful days ; 
there is the quaint-faced Pickersgill, with the raven hair; 
* Tay-Pay,' with hair dark as night, who, despite his London 
training, is still only a black-haired Celt; and many more 
singular types, strongly individualistic. While, on our side, 
Sir William Houldsworth best represents the florid-faced 
gentlemen who form the sturdy, long-suffering Majority. 

The Obstructive tactics, about which I heard so much in the 
past, have been pursued for three days now, most skilfully. 
Like an unsophisticated new Member, I have sat watching 
curiously, speaker after speaker rising to his feet on the Oppo- 
sition side, wondering why they showed so much greater 
energy than our people, and expecting to be rewarded with a 
great speech ; but so far I have waited in vain. It dawned upon 
me, after a while, that they were all acting after a devised 
plan. There was absolutely nothing worth listening to in 
anything any one of them said, but it served admirably to 
waste time, and to exasperate, or, rather, fatigue one. 

Towards midnight, the patience of the Government seemed 
worn out, and from that hour, until 2.20 A. m., we were kept 
marching to the lobbies, and being counted. Each count occu- 
pies from twenty minutes to half an hour. We went through 
the performance four times in succession, and our majorities 
were double the total number of the minority. 

I was so tired, when I came home, that I felt as if I had 
undergone a long march. The close air of the House I feel is 
most deleterious to health, for the atmosphere of the small 
chamber after the confinement of about three hundred and 
fifty Members for eleven hours, must needs be vitiated. 

We are herded in the lobbies like- so many sheep in a fold ; 
and, among my wonders, has been that such a number of 
eminent men could consent voluntarily to such a servitude, in 
which I cannot help seeing a great deal of degradation. 

The criminal waste of precious time, devotion to antique 
customs, the silent endurance of evils, which, by a word, could 
be swept away, have afforded me much matter of wonder. 



IN PARLIAMENT 477 

There are Irish M. P.'s who must feel amply rewarded, in 
knowing that, through sheer excess of impudence only, they 
can condemn so many hundreds of their betters to bend 
servilely to their behests ! At many of the divisions, I have 
been almost smothered by Hicks-Beach, the Marquis of 
Lome, Austin Chamberlain, Arthur Balfour, Tom Ellis, 
Arnold-Forster, Henry Chaplin, George Curzon, Lord Comp- 
ton, Sydney Gedge, Lord Dalkeith, Coningsby Disraeli, and 
scores of great land-owners and others; temperature in the 
nineties. While, on the other side of our cage, stood Tim Healy 
in the cool hall, smiling inwardly at this servility on the part 
of so many noble and worthy men ! 

But, if I pity this dumb helplessness of our great Majority, 
and marvel at its meek submissiveness to the wholly unneces- 
sary, I pity still more that solitary figure in the Speaker's 
Chair, who has been sitting, and standing, from 3 p. m. to 
2.20 A. M. One said to me, 'What won't six thousand pounds 
a year do?' Well, I swear that I am above it, if the reward 
was double ; because I should not survive it long, and hence 
would derive no benefit from the big pay. I pity him from 
my heart, and I hope sincerely that his constitution is strong 
enough to bear it. No mortal can sit eleven hours, on a rich 
diet, and long survive. 

August 23rd. The vote in connection with the Foreign 
Office, on the 21st, formed a legitimate excuse for my rising 
to deliver a few remarks, in answer to Sir Charles Dilke. I see 
those remarks are called my Maiden Speech, but as I made no 
preparation — as I really did not suspect there would be any 
occasion for interposing in the debate — I do not think they 
deserve to be called a speech. 

Sir Charles, in that professional manner I have already 
alluded to, began with drawing attention to Armenia and 
China, and, as though he was again about to set out on a tour 
through Greater Britain, soon entered upon the question of 
the evacuation of Egypt; and, then airily winging his way 
across the dark continent, lighted on West Africa and its 
affairs, dipped into the liquor traffic ; then suddenly flew 
towards Uganda, and, after a short rest, continued his flight to 
Zanzibar and Pemba. 

As an exhibition of the personal interest he took in matters 



478 HENRY M. STANLEY 

abroad, in little-known countries, no fault could be found 
with his discursive flights ; that is, if the Committee were sit- 
ting for the purpose of judging his proficiency and knowledge. 
But, as the House takes no interest in any one's personal 
qualifications, his speech was, I thought, superfluous. 

It is not easy, however, to reply in the House, all at once. 
Half a score of Members are on the 'qui-vive' to discharge 
upon the submissive body their opinions. I perceive as each 
would-be speaker rises to attract the Chairman's attention 
that his thoughts are abundant; but, when he is permitted 
to speak, the thoughts do not flow so smoothly out of his 
lips as they may have coursed through his mind ! If he is 
a new Member, he is a pitiable object at such a time. Even 
the old Members are not always happy. 

Well, after Sir Charles Dilke sat down, our friend James 
Bryce rose, who, I must admit, speaks fluently, as well he 
might, with his great experience as a Lecturer, Member, and 
Minister. I do not think he is at all nervous ; at least, I should 
not judge him to be so from his manner. 

After him, rose Mr. McKenna to ask about Siam. I had 
made a little move, but I was too late, having not quite con- 
cluded in my own mind that I ought to speak. 

When he finished. Commander Bethell had the floor. These 
old Members shoot to their feet with a sudden spring, like 
Jack-in- the- Box. He spoke upon Egypt and the new countries 
of Central Africa like one desirous of obtaining information 
upon matters which puzzled him. 

Parker Smith, sitting beside me, was on his feet in an in- 
stant ; but what he said seemed to me rather an indistinct echo 
of what his brother C. S. Smith (formerly Consul at Zanzibar) 
thinks of Zanzibar slavery. 

I rose, a trifle after he finished ; but the veteran, 'Tommy* 
feowles, was ahead of me, and what he said was fatal to the 
repose, and concentration, of mind necessary for a speech. 
He speaks excellently, and delivers good, solid matter. My 
surprise at his power, and my interest in what he said, was so 
great, that I could not continue the silent evolution of thought 
in which I should have engaged, had he been less interesting 
and informing ; and here I ought to say, that I do not join with 
some in their dislike of him. He is not a man to be despised. 



IN PARLIAMENT 479 

As a public speaker, he comes very near in ability to Chamber- 
lain, who is, without doubt, the best debater in the House. 
Given the fitting subject, suited to his manner, Mr. Bowles 
would certainly prove that my opinion of him as a Parliamen- 
tary debater is correct. He is quite cool, uses good language, 
and handles his arguments with skill. Then, again, there is 
no oddity or awkwardness of bearing, to neutralize the effect 
of his words. As I supposed he was drawing to a close, I 
resolutely collected my straying thoughts, and excluded what 
he was saying out of my mind ; and, as he was sitting down, I 
stood up, and Mr. Lowther called out 'Mr. Stanley' in a firm, 
clear voice. 

It is not a pleasant feeling to look down from the third row 
upon an intelligent and critical Opposition, who, you feel, are 
going to pay more attention to the manner than the matter 
of your speech. The reporters and editorial Members, in 
remarking upon how I spoke, gave free rein to their fancies. 
'Tay-Pay,' as you must have seen in the pink 'Sun' I sent 
you, has excelled all the rest in his imaginative description of 
my deportment. You will wonder, perhaps, when I say that 
the picture of me, which he gives, is far from representing my 
inwardness. All my fellow-members have a remarkable gift 
of easy verbosity. There is a small kernel of fact in almost 
every sentence they deliver, but it is often indistinguishable, 
through the vast verbiage. 

The veriest trifle of commonplace fact is folded round and 
round with tissue after tissue of superfluity. If a Member 
wished to say that he had seen a rat, he seems to be unable 
to declare the fact nakedly, but must hedge it about with so 
many deprecatory words that you are apt to lose sight of the 
substance. He says : * I venture to say, with the permission 
of the House, that unless my visual organs deceive me, and 
the House will bear me out when I say that my powers of 
ocular perception are not of the most inferior kind, that,' 
etc., etc. 

To nervous people, this verbiage serves as a shelter, until 
they can catch the idea they are groping for. I wanted some 
such shelter badly, for it requires a strong effort to marshal 
out your ideas and facts, so that there shall be no awkward 
break in the speech. Gladstone used to shelter to excess ; he 



'd 



480 HENRY M. STANLEY 

circumvented, to a weary length; and often required more 
than one sentence before he could muster courage to approach 
the fact. 

Well! I have not got the art! First, I have not the pa- 
tience ; and, then, again, I disdain the use of the art, on prin- 
ciple. I want to say what I have to say, right out, and be 
done with it, — which does not tend to elegance. 

Considering these, my Parliamentary imperfections, my 
facts rolled out without being over-detached. Some say I 
spoke rapidly. They are wrong. I spoke at the ordinary rate 
of public speech, and distinctly. By the kindness of the 
House, I was made to feel that I was not saying anything 
foolish or silly. That was the main point, and inspired me with 
just enough confidence to prevent an ignominious break- 
down. I sat down with the feelings of one who had made a 
deep dive, and came up just in time to relieve the straining 
lungs. Members all said that I had done well. I was con- 
gratulated right and left. Well, honestly, I did not know 
whether I was doing well or ill ! I had a few sentiments to 
utter, and I felt relieved that they were not botched. 

In the afternoon, Parker Smith got up, and remarked that, 
in what I said, I had been ' trading on my reputation.' Fancy 
a young fellow, sitting next to you, getting up and saying 
such a thing, — and he a veteran Parliamentarian ! I chose 
my time, and got up to say that I was wholly unaware of hav- 
ing uttered a word calling for such a remark ; and I begged the 
honourable gentleman not to make any more such ! 

Yesterday, however, I did not make a brilliant figure. 
Ashmead-Bartlett, a truly busy bee, asked a question in regard 
to the hanging of Stokes, an English trader in East Africa. 
I, not wishing that the House should express too great an 
indignation, got up a question which, while it did justice to 
poor Stokes's merits, showed how rash and misguided he had 
been in consorting with Kibonge, the murderer of Emin Pasha, 
and supplying him with arms. But the question was too long, 
and the Speaker checked me when I was near the end of it. 

I have not been clear of a headache all this week. The 
atmosphere in the House, during this great heat, is simply 
poisonous. I do not wonder, now, at the pasty, House-of- 
Commons complexion; four hundred people breathing for 



IN PARLIAMENT 481 

ten or eleven hours the air of one room must vitiate it. Then 
my late hours, 2 and 3 a. m., simply torture me. One night, I 
was relieved by Labouchere pairing with me ; and so got home 
by midnight, and slept six hours. On all other nights, I have 
not been able to obtain more than four hours' sleep. 

Yesterday, I paired with Labouchere, for the rest of the 
Session from to-night ; so I shall lie in bed all day to-morrow, 
to rest ; and, after finishing some private work, shall depart 
on my holiday. 

Thus ends this Journal of Stanley's first week in Parliament. 



CHAPTER XXIII 
SOUTH AFRICA 

JANUARY 1st, 1896. We have begun the New Year 
badly! The hurricane blast I predicted has burst out 
in the form of a denunciatory message from President 
Cleveland upon the subject of the Venezuela claims. Though 
it was very unstatesmanlike of Cleveland to word his message 
with such violence, we have given some provocation. 

Time after time have various Secretaries of State written, 
urging us to come to some agreement with the Venezuelan 
Government, and offered their friendly arbitration, or medi- 
ation, as it was not conducive to good-will between us and 
the Americans, to have such long-standing grievances acting 
as an irritant between the Americans and the English people. 
Secretary Bayard's letter of appeal ought to have moved us 
to instant action, on account of its undoubtedly friendly sen- 
timents, written with such earnestness and kindly feeling. 
The turning of a deaf ear to such a letter as this no doubt 
made the Americans believe that nothing but a thunder-clap, 
such as Cleveland has given, would rouse us to consider the 
matter seriously. 

The English papers have been quite taken aback by it; 
and, here and there, some fools are talking of resistance ! One 
man, who holds a high office in the State, talked to me last 
night of the manner we should fight the Americans ! Poor old 
soul, he did not expect the contempt with which I extinguished 
his martial ardour. Why ! if Venezuela and Guiana were both 
wiped out of the map, America and England would suffer 
from it far less than from recent speculative dishonesty. In 
addition to this shock from America, we are considerably dis- 
turbed by the Armenian atrocities, and what action we might 
be urged to take in behalf of the oppressed Armenians. The 
Radicals are very bellicose, and would applaud Lord Salis- 
bury if he sent a fleet up the Dardanelles. To-day, we have 
news that Dr. Jameson has invaded the Transvaal, with a 



SOUTH AFRICA 483 

small force between four hundred and six hundred strong! 
The details are meagre, but the impression is that he is alone 
in this wild escapade. A ' Sun' interviewer has asked me my 
opinion in the matter, and I have said frankly that it is our 
duty to drive him back quicker than he went in. It is not 
so very long ago that I entertained both Jameson and Rhodes 
here. I never suspected that either of them would have been 
concerned in such a harum-scarum act as this ! 

July 7th, Tuesday. Dined with Mr. and Mrs. Yates 
Thompson. The Jameson Raid was very much discussed ; and 
I found myself, in this instance, quite in accord with the 
Radicals whom I met there. 

July 9th. Dined with Lord James of Hereford. I was sur- 
prised at his saying that there were extenuating circum- 
stances for Jameson's act, but it is evident that his legal 
acumen is awry. Under no circumstances would we profit by 
this Raid, however successful it might have been. 

Stanley greatly rejoiced at the arrival of our little boy, Denzil, and 
bought picture-books for him, and toys suited to a child of four! In 
1896, during a long and serious illness, what best pleased Stanley 
was to have the baby placed beside him on the bed. One day, when 
the child was there, Stanley looked up at me and said, ' Ah, it is 
worth while now ... to get well ! ' 

It was these frequent attacks of gastralgia, or gastritis, complicated 
by malaria, which made me so dread his returning to Africa. After 
our marriage, I felt no security. He himself thought he would have 
to go back to the Congo, for a time, * to put things right.' But I knew 
that he ought never to return there. 

Stanley was constantly being attacked by fever and these internal 
pains, which came without any warning, and with such intensity, 
that breathing was impeded. The first attack was in the Forest of 
Central Africa, and he describes his illness in ' Darkest Africa,' an 
illness attributable, possibly, to the poor diet, and, afterwards, to 
starvation. 

Two days before our marriage he was taken ill, in the same way, 
an illness that lasted many weeks. 

During Stanley's malaria attacks, the shivering preceding the hot 
stage was so violent that the bed he lay on would shake, and the 
glasses on the table vibrate and ring. I might come in from a walk, 
and, not seeing Stanley in his library, run upstairs to his room, and 
find him in bed, covered with blankets, quilts, even great-coats; with 
chattering teeth, and hurried speech, he would bid me get hot-water 
bottles to pack round him. Then, when the cold fit had passed, and 
the heat had reached its maximum, he would speak to me re-assur- 



484 HENRY M. STANLEY 

ingly, and tell me not to fear, that all would be well ; that it was 
only ' Africa in me,' and I must get the quinine ready. The terrible 
sweating over, he would take twenty to twenty-five grains of quinine, 
and . . . wait ! So I came to know exactly what to do ; but I vowed, 
in my heart, that he should never return to the country which had 
taken so much of his splendid vitality ; for Stanley had had three 
attacks of haematuric fever, in Africa, and more severe malaria 
fevers than he could number. 

In June, 1896, we arranged to visit Spain, as he wanted to show 
me Madrid, Toledo, etc., etc. ; but, in the train, four hours before 
we got to Madrid, he was seized with one of these mysterious gastric 
attacks, and when we arrived, soon after midnight, he was hardly 
conscious, from extreme pain. 

I could not speak Spanish, and knew no one in Madrid. We went 
to the principal hotel, on the Puerta del Sol ; and there I waited till 
morning, when a clever Austrian doctor came to my assistance, but 
there seemed little we could do. Day by day, Stanley grew weaker ; 
and, at last, in desperation, I decided, ill as he was, to get him back 
to England. By the time we reached Paris, Stanley was rather bet- 
ter, and, for two days, he was free from the pain and intermittent 
fever. But it was only a short lull, for the spasms returned, with 
redoubled violence, and it was with the greatest difficulty that I 
succeeded in getting him back to our home in London. 

There, I nursed him for three months, until he gradually recov- 
ered. Thus he would enjoy spaces of perfect health, with intervals 
of the old trouble. I think Stanley feared nothing in the world as he 
feared those first ominous stabs of pain ; but when the spasms were 
steadily recurrent, and no doctor could give him any relief, Stanley 
accepted the pain and weakness, silently and stoically. Here, for 
instance, is an entry in his Journal, in 1897: — 

Pain has commenced — unable to take even milk without 
sickness ; am resigned for a long illness — it is now inevitable ; 
shall not be able to attend Parliament again this Session. 

I knew by the sound of his voice, when he called me in the middle 
of the night, that the pain had come; sometimes it left quite sud- 
denly, and we looked at each other, I pale with fear lest it should 
return. In 1897, the attack recorded above did not last, as he had 
feared, but, in 1898, at Cauterets, in the Pyrenees, he was again 
taken ill. He writes in his Journal, August 15th : — 

Felt the first severe symptoms of a recurring attack. Have 
had two attacks of fever, and now have steady pain since 
Sunday night, but rose to-day. 

August 17th, LucHON. On arriving, went to bed at once, for 
my pains threatened to become unbearable. 



SOUTH AFRICA 485 

September 11. Biarritz. All I know of Luchon is what I 
have gained during two short walks in the intervals of illness. 
On arriving here, I went straight to bed. 
. October ist. — Left Biarritz for Paris; have been in bed the 
whole time. 

October loth. — Have been ill all the time in Paris ; returned 
to London after the dreadful holidays. 

When we returned to London, I felt very near despair. The star- 
vation diet Stanley was kept on had now reduced him to such a state 
of weakness he could not sit up in bed. Skilful massage, however, 
and an immediate, generous diet, restored Stanley, as by magic, to 
perfect health. I return now to the Journal for 1896. 

December 21st, 1896. Brighton. Warmest greetings to 
darling little Denzil, our own cherub ! Possibly, I think too 
much of him. If I were not busy with work and other things, 
I should undoubtedly dwell too much on him, for, as I take 
my constitutional, I really am scarce conscious that I am in 
Brighton. For, look where I may, his beautiful features, 
lightened up with a sunny smile, come before my eyes all the 
time! I see him in your arms, and I marvel greatly at my 
great happiness in possessing you two ! Believe it or not, as 
you like, but my heart is full of thankfulness that I have been 
so blessed. 

Denzil is now inseparable from you — and you from him. — 
Together, you complete the once vague figure of what I 
wished ; and now the secret of my inward thoughts is realised, 
a pre-natal vision, embodied in actual existence. 

Now take up Denzil, look full into his angelic face, and deep 
down into those eyes so blue, as if two little orbs formed out 
of the bluest heaven were there, and bless him with your 
clean soul, untainted by any other thought than that which 
wishes him the best God can give him. At present, he is of 
such as are the beings of God's heaven, purity itself. — May 
he grow to noble manhood and serve God zealously ! 

Stanley left Southampton on October 9, 1897, per Union steamer 
' Norman,' for South Africa, to assist in the opening of the Bulawayo 
Railway, by invitation of the citizens of Bulawayo. 

October 13th, 1897, on Board. There are several wee things 
in arms on board, and I shake hands with them all in turns, 



486 HENRY M. STANLEY 

every morning, as my ' devoir ' to our Denzil. The white 
frocks remind me of him. A baby cries, — there is a child at 
home, with just such a voice, sometimes; and then he trots 
into memory's view, looks up brightly, and is gone. I can get 
a hundred views of him in a minute ; it is, in fact, a mental 
kinematograph, and thus I see him continually floating in and 
out of my recollection. You are, alternately, recalled. My last 
thoughts on going to sleep are of you. I mutter a prayer; 
commit you to God, take another glance at the little baby- 
face, and am asleep. 

S. S. Norman, October 25th, 1897. Ah — my dear! a little 
baby, nine months old, was buried yesterday morning at eight 
— she died from meningitis ! She was perfectly well, until 
long after we passed Cape Verd. I had often encountered 
the father carrying his little girl, and dancing her gently up 
and down in his arms. He was a picture of happiness. Then 
the baby pined and sickened ; for two days there was great 
anxiety; the third day there was but little hope left, and, in 
the night, the child died. The next morning the little body 
was consigned to the everlasting deep ! 

After visiting Rhodesia, Stanley took a short tour, through the 
Orange Free State, the Transvaal, and Natal. I can only give brief 
selections from his letters to me, giving, however, in full, his letter 
describing Kruger, which, for discernment of character, and political 
foresight, is certainly most remarkable, having been written to me 
two years before the war. 

Johannesburg, November 20th, 1897. Dined at the Club, 
where I learnt several lessons. In Bulawayo, Englishmen had 
rather an exalted feeling, as of men who had suddenly been 
made rich, and whose prospects were delightful. In Johannes- 
burg, the feeling is different. I find them subdued, querulous, 
and recriminatory. They blame everybody but themselves. 
They recapitulate their failures to obtain justice, the indif- 
ference of the English colonial policy. They tell instances of 
Boer oppression, corruption, tyranny, and hypocrisy, with 
grinding teeth, and do not forget to allude to the mistakes of 
Jameson, the tactlessness, folly, and unhappy consequences 
of the Raid ; but they are silent as regards their own conduct, 
and seem to think they are as hardly dealt with by the British 
•Government, as by Kriiger and his handful of oligarchs. 



SOUTH AFRICA 487 

I wish I could repeat, word for word, what I have been told 
in very eloquent language ; but, as I could not take my note- 
book out at the dinner-table, I can only say that I have been 
much impressed with all I have heard, and feel genuine sym- 
pathy for them, which makes me reluctant to wound them ; 
but, the truth is, there are too many leaders, and each leader 
pulls a contrary way to his fellows ; consequently, they have 
no concrete, well-considered policy. I quite agree with them 
that our Government is to blame for allowing the Convention 
to be broken so repeatedly ; and that their action is not what 
that of the Germans would have been, for instance, had they 
so many subjects maltreated, and desired their Treaty rights. 

But, though I would speak strongly of the weakness of 
England, I think that the Uitlanders are also to blame in not 
acting in concert, upon a well-arranged plan, compelling 
Kruger to come out of his shell, and force things quicker to an 
issue between England and the Transvaal. 

I am assuming, of course, that the Johannesburgers feel all 
that they say, about oppression, tyranny, their feeling of 
desperation, etc., etc. ; but all their pitiful tales of distresses 
endured, injuries inflicted on persons of property, audacious 
breaches of the Convention, and so on, will not induce England 
to wake up to her duty, nor move the Government to action. 
A Government, even that like the Salisbury- Chamberlain, 
at present in power, must have strong excuses to sanction an 
undertaking that may cost millions of money, and thousands 
of lives. It will certainly be no child's play to use compulsion 
on a man like Kruger. They would rather endure much than 
go to war ; and yet, if the Uitlanders let the Unionists go out 
of office, without convincing them that they ought no longer 
to endure this state of things, they must try other things than 
mere telegraphic reports to the newspapers. 

At the dinner- table, I told them all very frankly my opinion 
on the matter; and said, * I was reminded of the words, " It is 
expedient that one man should die for many." ' 'That is to 
say,' I explained, * English people cannot be moved by these 
reports of breaches of the Convention. You must convince 
them that the sense of your injuries is so great you are will- 
ing to brave death rather than bear with what you consider 
intolerable.' 'But how can we do anything?* they asked. 



488 HENRY M. STANLEY 

' We are not allowed arms ; not even a pistol is allowed to 
come to the Transvaal.* 

' You do not want arms of any kind,' I said. ' I have seen 
enough to know that you could not do much with arms. You 
do not even want a pen-knife, as a weapon of offence. You 
simply want to prove to England your grievances are real, and 
your patience exhausted. Let England see that you dare to 
resist this iniquitous rule under which you suffer ; and that you 
are defying the powers that be, risking liberty and property ; 
and her opinion will be swiftly changed. Let every instance 
wherein you think you are wronged — which you can prove is 
against the Convention — be marked by resistance, not active, 
but passive. You called the Convention just now the charter of 
your rights : on the strength of these rights, let your resist- 
ance be based. The Boer officials will demand why such con- 
duct ; you will calmly say. They will pooh-pooh, and threaten 
you ; you will refuse compliance. They will use compulsion 
of a kind ; they will imprison or expel you. There will be ten, 
twenty, forty, a hundred examples of this punishment. The 
Uitlanders should continue the same resolute attitude of 
resistance, yielding not a jot. 

' The Boers will soon perceive that this is serious ; rather than 
expel a whole population, they must either come to terms, or 
try what violence can do. If the latter, some of you must 
become martyrs to your sense of what is right. Those martyrs 
will buy the freedom of the others, for England will be calling 
to arms. We all know that England ought to have acted as 
became her on the first breach of the Convention ; but she 
resorted to discussion, and in discussion, at length, she has 
been beaten. Time, and time again, has the Convention been 
broken ; and the answers England gave to all of them, are — 
a pile of Blue-books ! The Boers can go on at that game for 
ever. The Boer head has become very big. The self-esteem 
of Kruger has grown intolerably large, to reduce which will 
require something more than reason. But you know, whether 
with an individual or a nation, how hard it is to suddenly 
change from courteous argument to the deadly arbitrament 
of force. Something is wanted to rouse the passions to that 
pitch. I know of nothing that will do it quicker than an 
act of violence by the Boers. When the Boers resort to vie- 



SOUTH AFRICA 489 

lence, it will be all up with them. If I know anything of 
the English character, the first act of violence will not be 
committed by them,' etc., etc. 

Colonel Saunderson, who was a fellow-guest, agreed with 
all I said. 

As we walked to the Grand Central Hotel, it was the 
Colonel's opinion that the Uitlanders were not of that stuff 
from which martyrs are made. I agree, but, * even worms will 
turn.' 

November 23rd, 1897. Took train for Pretoria. I had a letter 
of introduction to Mr. Marks, of Lewis & Marks, who took 
me to a kind of bachelor house he keeps. 

November 24th. Mr. Marks took me to President Kriiger's 
house at 5.30 A. m. It is an unusually early time to visit, 
but the old man is an early riser, and is at his best in the 
morning. 

He was sitting on the stoep, with two old Members of the 
Rand, taking his coffee, before leaving on an electioneering 
journey. When Marks told him of my desire for an interview, 
he motioned my conductor to take me to the reception saloon, 
which opened out on the stoep. A grandson of Kruger's 
showed me a chair. It happened to be directly in front of a 
full-length portrait of the President, so I was forced to look 
with wonder at the bad painting, and libellous likeness of the 
man I had come to see. 

Presently Kruger came in, and seated himself under his 
portrait. Now, as he was the man who held the destinies of 
South Africa in his hand, I regarded him with interest, in order 
to divine what the future would be, from what I could gather 
of his character, by studying his features, gestures, and talk. 
In the past, I have often made fair guesses at the real man. 
As reporter, special correspondent in several campaigns, and 
in various cities, and as traveller over five continents, I have 
had opportunities enough ; I found, when in the presence of 
African chiefs of whose language I was ignorant, that, long 
before the interpreter had spoken, I had rightly guessed what 
the chiefs had said, and I could often correct the interpreter. 
When two civilized men meet, both being strangers, absolutely 
independent, unconcerned, uninterested in each other further 
than mere civility requires, the little points that betray 



490 HENRY M. STANLEY 

character, mood, or temper are not seen ; and the disposition of 
human nature in general is to put the most civil construction 
possible upon one's fellow-creatures and their ways. 

While the morning greetings were being interchanged, and 
my eyes kept glancing from Kruger's face to that of the 
portrait, the real man appeared loveable, compared with the 
portrait. His features, though terribly plain and worn, were 
amiable and human; and, if I had gone away after this, I 
would have carried with me the ordinary impression, which I 
have seen countless times in newspapers, that Kruger was not a 
bad kind of man ; a little obstinate, perhaps, but, on the whole, 
well-meaning, and so on. But, in order to get a glimpse of the 
possible future of the relations between him and the Uitland- 
ers, I began to praise Johannesburg, its growth, and the enter- 
prise of the people, and I asked Mr. Kruger whether or not 
things were settling down more peacefully now. This was 
the beginning of an interview which, while it lasted, revealed 
Kruger, the man, sufficiently to me; so that if he were an 
African chief, and I had dealings with him, it would have 
taught me exactly what to do, and how to provide against 
every eventuality. 

In short, I soon saw that he was a choleric and passionate 
old man, uncommonly obstinate, determined within himself 
that his view was the right one, and that no peaceful issue 
could be expected, unless his demands were complied with, 
and most implicit trust given to his word. Now, if the wel- 
fare of my expedition were at stake, and I thought my force 
was equal to his, or enough to enable me to inflict severe pun- 
ishment upon him should he attempt to carry out his passion- 
ate words, I should not have parted from him without some 
better guarantee than trust in his mere word ; and, if the 
guarantee would not be given, I should have gone away with 
the feeling that the old man meant mischief, and that it was 
incumbent on me to take every precaution against him. 

Mr. Kruger's manner changed immediately I had men- 
tioned Johannesburg and its people. His voice and its vary- 
ing intonations, every line in his face, betrayed the strongest 
resentment ; and, when I suggested that the smallest conces- 
sions to their demands would modify that attitude of hostility 
to him which angered him, he became the incarnation of fury, 



SOUTH AFRICA 491 

and his right hand went up and down like a sledge-hammer, 
and from his eyes, small and dull as they were, flashed forth 
the most implacable resolve that surrender must be on their 
side, not his ! 

When an old man like this, — he is seventy-four, — who, 
for the last sixteen years, at least, has had his own way, and 
been looked up to by Boer and Uitlander, as the ' man of the 
situation,' — when he has made up his mind upon having some- 
thing, it is not likely that any other course than his own can 
he believe to be the right one. When we think of what has 
happened these last sixteen years — his visits to London, his 
negotiations in Pretoria and London concerning the Conven- 
tion, the way everyone. Englishman and Boer, has yielded 
to him, the adulation paid to him for his success, one cannot 
wonder that he believes that in this matter of the Uitlander's 
rights, as in the things that went before, his methods, his 
style, and his way are the best and safest ! 

This has begotten in him an arrogance so large that, before 
he can be made sensible that he is wrong, his fierce pride must 
be humbled ; his head has grown so big with this vain belief 
in his prowess in battle. His victories over Gladstone, Lord 
Salisbury, and others of the same calibre, the implicit trust 
of the Boers in him, and in his unconquerability, have been 
such, that, I am convinced, there is no room in that brain for 
one grain of common-sense to be injected into it. 

His whole behaviour seems to say very clearly to the ob- 
server, ' What do I care for your Chamberlain, with his Mil- 
ners and Greens? They shall yield to me first. I don't care a 
snap of the finger for them ; let them do their worst ; better 
men than they have tried and failed, and they will fail too.' 
The unmitigated contempt for people who try conciliation 
has only to be seen in Kruger, for one to know that the old 
man is an impossible creature ; and that he is only made 
implacable and fierce by beseeching and conciliating. 

A recollection of the telegram asking * How is Mrs. Kruger?' 
almost made me laugh aloud, in Kruger's presence. Such a 
telegram, to this kind of man ! ! Why ! if a strong man, armed, 
and covered with impenetrable armour, were to suddenly 
rise in Kruger's sight, and boldly advance, and seize him by 
the scruff of the neck, and shake him, until a little of that 



492 HENRY M. STANLEY 

wind of vanity, that has so inflated him, escaped, he would 
not have long to wait before Kruger would be amenable to 
reason and decent conversation! But the fellow must find 
himself faced by force ! 

An exchange of opinions is now impossible, as he flies di- 
rectly into a passion at the mere suggestion that a diff^erent 
kind of treatment to the Uitlanders would secure to him the 
Presidency for life, and remove all fear of friction. For it is 
something connected with his own self-interest, probably a 
fear that the votes of the Uitlanders would upset him from the 
Chair he fills, drive him out of the house he occupies, diminish 
his importance and his affluent income, — all this is at the bot- 
tom of his extreme irascibility and stormy impatience when 
the Uitlanders are mentioned. 

The interview did not last twenty-five minutes, but I had 
seen enough, and heard more than enough, to convince me 
that this was an extreme case, which only force could remedy. 

You ask me to describe Kruger minutely. Well, he is very 
like his photographs ; I should know him among ten thousand 
in the street ; but to see and talk with him reveals scores of 
little things no photographs can give. You have seen lots 
of stout-bodied old Parisian concierges ; and I dare say you 
have seen them in their seedy black clothes, when going out 
on a visit ; put a little top-hat on one of them, give him stoop- 
ing shoulders, with a heavy, lumbering, biggish body, and you 
will know Kruger at once ! Well ! let him sit vis-a-vis to you ; 
put much obstinacy into a face that is unusually large, with 
an inch of forehead and two small eyes ; let the figure sink in 
his chair, with an attitude of determination in every line, and 
give him a big briarwood pipe, which is held in his left hand, 
and there you have him ! 

Aged statesmen are liable, at a certain age, to develop 
symptoms of the refractoriness and arbitrariness of disposition 
which eventually makes them unsuitable for the requirements 
of the country, and impossible to their colleagues in the Cabi- 
net. Well, ' that 's what 's the matter ' with Kruger ! He is quite 
past reasoning with. Neither Mr. Chamberlain, nor Sir Alfred 
Milner, nor Mr. Greene, will ever succeed with him; and I 
don't know any three men who so deserve to succeed as they. 
They are all capital fellows, brilliant, able, and deserving. Mr. 



SOUTH AFRICA 493 

Chamberlain has a deal of perseverance and convictions of his 
own ; but, ten minutes' talk with Kruger would give him the 
knowledge, at first-hand, that one should have to be able to 
deal effectively with a political opponent ; and, as Sir Alfred 
Milner has not seen Kruger either, these two able men are 
really dealing haphazard with the President. 

What amazes me is the extraordinary hopefulness of the 
men I meet. Many residents here have seen and known 
Kruger intimately; and yet, no sooner has one project for 
getting their rights been baffled, than they have some new 
scheme afoot. They have tried everything but the right thing, 
and will continue to do so. If Englishmen on the spot hardly 
realise the Boer cunning and determination, how impossible 
it is for the Englishman at home to do so ! 

Well ! much talk with all kinds of South Africans and my 
talk with Kruger has opened my eyes to the perplexities of 
the situation. I heartily pity the Colonial Secretary, and I 
foresee that the Transvaal will continue to disturb his office. 
The Boers of the Cape, the Boers of the Orange Free State, 
and the Boers of the Transvaal, will combine, if any incon- 
siderate step is taken by the Colonial Office. 

What, then, is to be done? Keep still and be patient ! No- 
thing more ; for these people of South Africa, English and all, 
are exasperatingly contentious. The longer we are quiet, the 
more irascible they will get with each other ; our cues must 
be obtained from South Africa, and if the Johannesburgers 
want us to help them, they must be braver, more united, 
and more convinced of the inutility of their unaided efforts ; 
nay, were every Englishman and Afrikander in South Africa 
united, they could not alone, unaided, stand against the Boers. 

Kruger will plod on his vindictive way, and he must, in 
time, wear out the Johannesburgers' patience. They will 
do something to rouse the Boer temper; there will be some 
attack by the Boers, — confiscation of property, of territory. 
We shall be asked if we are indifferent to our countrymen's 
distress, and so . . . the cup will be full, and the time will 
have come. That is the only way I see whereby the Transvaal 
is to be saved from King Kruger. 

Mind you, this is Kruger's fourth term of office that he is 
seeking. Twenty years ! Rule for so long a time makes for 



494 HENRY M. STANLEY 

Despotism ; and, in an old man of his unbending nature, it 
makes for an accumulation of mistakes, caused by temper, 
arrogance, and conceit ; it makes for the usual political calam- 
ity which precedes the salvation of a country or nation. 

Marks and I left the house, and while Kruger hastened to 
get ready for his electioneering journey, I was being shewn 
the way to the Pretoria Club, where I was cordially received, 
and inducted into the opinions of other residents of the Boer 
capital. 

I have met no one who can give me what I should call an 
intelligent idea of the outcome of this tension between the 
Boers and British. They all confine themselves to common- 
place things and ideas. Kruger, Reitz, Joubert, whom I have 
seen to-day, are concerned only with what they want, and 
must have. Leyds, Kotze, Marks, are all afraid to engage 
in a discussion of any kind, and are really the most unlikely 
people to do so. The Club people, not knowing who may be 
listening, do not care to talk, and drop into monosyllables 
when politics are broached, though, with officious zeal, they 
allowed me to see, that, in their opinion, the Transvaal was 
ever so much better in many respects than England. Marks 
is a broker, who looks after certain interests of the President. 

The population dwelling in the hollow below the dominat- 
ing heights around, which are bristling with cannon, I pre- 
sume have no thoughts worth anything, and are filled with 
content every time they look up at those defiant forts above 
their city. 

I went to see Conyngham Greene, the English Political 
Resident here. He has a very nice house, situated in charm- 
ing surroundings of green lawns and flowering shrubberies, 
and he is himself very agreeable and pleasant. He is too 
young to have any profound view into the meaning of things. 
I dare say he does his duty efficiently, which is to report, 
day after day, upon the state of affairs, as he believes it to 
be; but, though this may be satisfactory to his chief, the 
High Commissioner, Sir Alfred Milner, Mr. Greene's opinions 
appear to be far from being decided one way or the other. 
My impression is, that he thinks the present tension is not 
likely to last long, that it is a mere phase, consequent upon 
the sore feelings caused by the Jameson Raid ; and, in short, 



SOUTH AFRICA 495 

that, though Kruger appears somewhat unappeasable and 
unrelenting, at present, he is sure to come round, by and by. 
It is so like what I have heard in England and at the Cape. 
' Yes, Kruger is terribly obstinate, but he is a dear old fellow, 
you know, all the same ; and he will be all right, give him 
time.' 

But that is not my Opinion. Kriiger is not that sort of man 
at all ! He must meet his master, and be overcome. 

The week before I arrived at the Cape, that is to say, only 
a few weeks ago. Sir Alfred Milner made a speech in Cape 
Colony, wherein he is reported to have said that it was all 
' humbug and nonsense for anyone to say that reconciliation 
was impossible, and that to expect good feeling between the 
two races was hopeless.' It may be supposed that he was 
only re-echoing what Mr. Conyngham Greene had written 
in his reports. 

Mr. Chamberlain has spoken in the same spirit, in the 
House of Commons, because of Sir Alfred Milner's views as 
conveyed to him in despatches. I feel positive that if Sir 
Alfred Milner and Mr. Chamberlain were to see Kruger, face 
to face, they would drop that sanguine, optimistic tone, and 
quickly and resolutely prepare for a storm. 

Despite all the wish that Chamberlain, Milner, and 
Greene may be right, the good-will I feel to all three of them, 
and the belief in their abilities, an inner voice tells me that 
they are all three wrong, that the Johannesburgers who share 
their views are living in a fool's paradise. Kruger will never, 
no never, give way to anything that is no harder than mere 
words ! The man must be made to bow that inflexible spirit 
to a temper that is more hardened, a spirit that is more un- 
yielding, and a force capable of carving its way, undeviatingly; 
to its object. Whence that force will come, it is impossible 
to say. I feel very much afraid that it will not come from 
England. England is losing her great characteristics, she is 
becoming too effeminate and soft from long inactivity, long 
enfeeblement of purpose, brought about by indolence and 
ease, distrust of her own powers, and shaken nerves. It is at 
such times that nations listen to false prophets, cranks, fad- 
dists, and weak sentimentalists. 



496 HENRY M. STANLEY 

It will take time, anyhow, to convince England that she 
ought to do anything ; it will take her still longer to provide 
the means for doing her duty effectively; it will take longer 
still to understand the nature and bigness of the task which 
it is her bounden duty to undertake, and so be in a position 
to say with the necessary firmness of voice to Kruger, that 
he must come to terms, immediately! 

People in England, for some reason, cannot be induced to 
believe in the reality of the Johannesburg grievances; they 
profess to regard them as a community of Jewish speculators 
in mines ; and even the failure to assist Jameson in the Raid, 
etc., etc., has, unfortunately, rather deepened disbelief in 
their complaints, which they please to consider as nothing 
more than the usual methods resorted to by Stock-Exchange 
speculators to advertise their wares, and alarm investors, s^ 
that for their own ends they may make a * grand coup ! * Bat 
both Jew and Christian now are of the same mind as to the 
hopelessness of their condition, unless Kruger can be made 
to conform to the terms of the Convention of 1884. 

Of course, it is possible that England may be roused to 
action sooner than expected, by some act of the Uitlanders. 
I believe that if the English people were to hear that the Uit- 
landers in their desperate state had resolved upon braving 
Kruger and his Boers to the death, and would show the ne- 
cessary courage to bear martyrdom, conviction would come 
quicker to English minds than from years of futile despatch- 
writing. If the Uitlanders thus braved him, I feel sure that 
Kruger would deal with them in the harshest and most sum- 
mary way, and, in doing so, he would be simply setting every 
instrument at work required to open the eyes and ears of 
Englishmen to his obdurate, implacable, and cruel nature; 
and, once they were convinced of this, Kruger's downfall 
would not be far off. 

Now, of course, after the insight I have gained into the 
heart of the question, I confess I am not free from feeling a 
large contempt for my countrymen for being so slow-witted 
and deaf to the cries of the Uitlanders ; and, yet, as I write 
this, I cannot see why I should feel such contempt for them, 
for certainly my own sympathies were but sluggish when 
first I accepted this opportunity of coming to South Africa. 



SOUTH AFRICA 497 

To speak the truth, they were not so keen as to wish England 
might go to war with the Transvaal. But now I see things 
in a different light, and I shall carry away with me from 
the Transvaal, a firm conviction that the English people 
have been systematically misled about Kruger and his Boers. 
Gladstonianism, and that gushing, teary tone adopted by the 
sentimental Peace-at-any-price section of our nation, are 
solely responsible for the persecutions and insults to which 
our people have been subject, since 1884, in the Transvaal. 
If it should come to fighting, there will be much killing done, 
and this will be entirely due to sentimentalists at home. 

The self-interest of men who would be self-seekers even 
under the heel of the tyrant has also largely contributed to 
mislead the people. Cowardice actuates those who would 
coax Kruger out of his sulks, and prefer to fawn on him 
instead of resenting his cruel treatment of his fellow-coun- 
trymen. They profess to believe in the piety of the Boers, 
and their love of peace ; they dwell on Kruger's attachment 
to the Bible, and believe him to be a 'dear, good old fellow,' 
Hkelyatany time to amaze the world by generous and just 
conduct. 

Within a few hours, I believe I could carve a fair likeness 
of Kruger out of a piece of tough wood, because no Michael 
Angelo is needed to do justice to his rugged features and un- 
gainly form, and I would be willing to guarantee that justice 
to the English would be sooner given by that wooden image 
than it will be by Mr. Kruger ; on that I pin my faith in my 
perception of what is Kruger's true character. 

Were either Russia or Germany in our position towards 
South Africa, things could not have come to this pass. Cer- 
tainly the American Government would not have remained so 
long blind, not only to duty, but to the ordinary dictates of 
common-sense, as we have been. 

A respectable third of the nation, I fancy, feel very much 
as I do upon the South African question ; another third may 
be said to prefer letting Kruger do just what he pleases, on the 
ground that no South African question can be of sufficient im- 
portance to risk the danger of giving offence to the stubborn 
old fellow ; and, if the question were put to them, point-blank, 
as to whether we should try and compel Kruger to abide by 



498 HENRY M. STANLEY 

the terms of the Convention, or fight him, I feel sure they 
would say let South Africa go, rather than fight! 

The remaining third comprises the nobodies, the people 
of the street, the mob, people who have no opinion on any 
subject except their own immediate and individual interest, 
who follow the Peace Party to-day, because the other Party, 
the Party for Compulsion, have not condescended to ex- 
plain to them why they should do otherwise. Now, should it 
happen that the people of Johannesburg, either after my ad- 
vice, or after their own methods, take a resolute front and 
dare to defy the tyrant, the Party for Compulsion would then 
have a text to preach upon; the ever- varying third might 
be influenced to side with it, and the Government might then 
find it the proper thing to declare war. 

I believe, therefore, it may come to war. But, as war is a 
serious thing, even with such a small state as the Transvaal, 
(and who knows whether the Orange Free State may not join 
them ?) I would not precipitately engage in it. I would prefer 
to give Kruger a good excuse to descend from that lofty 
and unalterable decision not to give way to anybody or any- 
thing. I would send a Peace Commission of half a dozen of 
the noblest, wisest, and most moderate men we have got, who 
could discuss all matters between the Dutch and ourselves, 
who would know when to yield on questions that do not afifect 
the supremacy of England, or touch on her vital interests, — 
men who could be firm with courtesy. 

This method, of course, is only to set ourselves right with 
the world, which is rather bitter against England just now, 
and give ourselves time to prepare, in case of the failure of 
the Peace Commission. 

A few millions spent on equipping a complete Army Corps, 
ready to set out at an instant's notice, and another ready 
to support it, might morally effect a change in Kruger's dis- 
position. 

He is, I believe, ready on his side for any contingency, or 
thinks he is ; otherwise, why those armed forts at Pretoria, 
and at Johannesburg, those ninety thousand Mauser rifles, 
and those batteries of artillery? Why, in fact, this attitude of 
irreconcileability on his part, were it not that he has been 
preparing for war ? 



SOUTH AFRICA 499 

My dear, I could go on for hours on this subject. I could 
tell you how I almost foresee war in this peaceful-looking 
country. The wise politicians at home would no doubt say, 
*Ah, Stanley is all very well as an explorer, but in politics, 
statesmanship, etc., he is altogether out of his element.' But 
I can read men, and the signs of what shall come are written 
on Kruger's face. My business through life has been to foresee, 
and if possible avert calamity . . . but enough is enough! 
Time flies, and the day of departure from this land will soon 
arrive, and every day that passes brings me nearer to you and 
that dear, blessed, little child of ours, whom the gods sent to 
cheer our hungry hearts. My whole soul is in my pen as I 
write. God bless you and keep you both ! 

November 26th, 1897. ^^ "^Y hurry to go to bed last night, I 
omitted to say anything about my impressions of Ladysmith, 
the Aldershot of Africa. It was but a short view I had of 
Ladysmith, but it was sufficient to make me exclaim to my 
fellow-passengers that the officer who selected that spot for 
a military camp ought to be shot ! Anyone who looks at the 
map of Natal may see that it would scarcely do to make a 
permanent military station too far in that point of land that 
penetrates between the Transvaal and the Orange Free State, 
unless it was resolved that the defences should be elaborate, 
and the provisions ample enough for a year at least. 

Dreading what might some day be a trap for a British force, 
the military authorities have chosen a basin-like hollow, south 
of, and near, a river called the Tugela. When we came round 
a bend from Newcastle, the white tents of the English soldiers 
were seen, away down in the hollow, some hundreds of feet 
below us. 

With Majuba ever on one's mind, with Kruger and his Boers 
so defiant and bold in their stubbornness, I cannot imagine 
what possesses the commander to undertake the responsibility 
of pretending to defend a camp, utterly indefensible according 
to my notions. 

Of course, an officer, in time of peace, may camp anywhere 
in a loyal colony like Natal, on the condition that it is only 
temporary; but the danger of such a camp as this is, that 
stores of all kinds soon become enormously valuable as they 
gather day after day, and their removal is very serious work. 



500 HENRY M. STANLEY 

Even if a camp be but temporary, I am of the opinion that it 
should be the best site in the vicinity and the easiest defensi- 
ble, were it only to keep alive that alertness and discipline 
which is necessary in war ; but this Ladysmith lies at the mercy 
of a band of raiders, and if a body of Englishmen can be found 
in time of peace raiding into a country at peace with us, it is 
not beyond possibility that a body of Boers may try some day 
to imitate us, when we least expect it. 



CHAPTER XXIV 
FAREWELL TO PARLIAMENT 

LONDON, Thursday, May 19th, 1898. Presided at Sir 
Alfred Lyall's lecture, on ' Chartered Companies and 
Colonization, ' before the Society of Arts. 

I have always a feeling, when observing an audience in Eng- 
land, that the people who appear to be listening are engaged 
upon their own particular thoughts. I have sometimes said to 
myself, * Life with such people is not an earnest affair. They 
have come, out of sheer amiability, or to tide over an idle 
hour. They mechanically smile, and do not mind languidly 
applauding when someone warns them it is time to do so.' 

In my remarks at the close of Sir Alfred Lyall's lecture, I 
took the opportunity of comparing the French doings at the 
end of the eighteenth century with those at the end of the 
nineteenth century, and predicted that when the French 
appeared on the White Nile, England would have to speak 
in no uncertain voice to France, or all our toils and expense, 
since 1882, in Egypt and the Soudan, would have to be con- 
sidered wasted. 

My earnest words roused our friends a little; then Lord 
Brassey, a typical Gladstonite, thinking I might lead them 
over to France, instanter, poured cold water upon the heat 
and said, * You know it is only Mr. Stanley's way ; he is always 
combative ! ' 

Poor, dear old England ! How she is bothered with senti- 
mentalists and cranks ! South Africa is almost lost, becauvse 
no Englishman in office dares to say 'Stop! That is Eng- 
land's.' Yet, if Kruger eventually succeeds, our sea route to 
India, Australia, and the Isles of the Indian Ocean, will soon 
be closed. 

If the French establish themselves on the White Nile, they 
will ally themselves with the Abyssinians, and soon find a way 
of re-arming the Mahdists ; and it would not be long then 



502 HENRY M. STANLEY 

before we should be driven out of Egypt, and clean away 
from the Suez Canal. Well, and then? 

But what is the use? A cold water speech from Lord 
Brassey quenches, or appears to, any little patriotic ardour 
that our Society Englishmen confess to having felt. If these 
people were to be consulted, they would vote for making 
England as small as she was in the pre-Alfred days, on condi- 
tion they were not to be agitated. 

November ist, 1898. Am gradually gaining strength after 
the illness which began in the South of France, August 
15th. 

The long weeks in bed have given me abundant time for 
thought, and I have decided that the time has come for me to 
seek my long-desired rest. It has become clearer to me, each 
day, that I am too old to change my open-air habits for the 
asphyxiating atmosphere of the House of Commons. 

Consequent upon this Parliamentary life are the various 
petty businesses of the Constituency I represent ; and a weary- 
ing correspondence with hundreds of people I am unac- 
quainted with, but who insist on receiving replies. This cor- 
respondence, alone, entails a good three-hours' work each day. 
The demands of the Constituents consume, on an average, 
another two hours. The House opens at 3 p. m., and business 
continues to any hour between midnight and 3 A. M. It is 
therefore impossible to obtain air or exercise. 

Long ago the House of Commons had lost its charm for me. 
It does not approach my conception of it. Its business is con- 
ducted in a shilly-shally manner, which makes one groan at 
the waste of life. It is said to begin at 3 p. m. Prayers are over 
at 3.10, but for the following twenty minutes we twiddle our 
fingers; and then commence Questions, which last over an 
hour. These questions are mainly from the Irish Party, and 
of no earthly interest to anyone except themselves ; but even 
if they were, the Answers might be printed just as the Ques- 
tions are ; that would save an hour for the business of debate. 
A Member soon learns how wearying is debate. Out of six 
hundred and seventy members, some twenty of them have 
taken it upon themselves, with the encouragement and per- 
mission of the Speaker, to debate on every matter connected 
with the Empire, and after we have heard their voices some 



FAREWELL TO PARLIAMENT 503 

fifty times, however interesting their subjects may be, it 
naturally becomes very monotonous. 

Chamberlain, however, is always interesting, because there 
is a method with him to get to his subject at once, and to deal 
with it In a lucid, straightforward manner, and have done 
with it. This is what we all feel, and therefore he is never 
tedious. Also, every speech Chamberlain delivers is different, 
and his manner varies ; sometimes it is quite exciting, a mere 
steady look, suggestive of we know not what, gives the cue ; 
sometimes it is only a false alarm ; but often we have intense 
moments, when every word penetrates, and rouses general 
enlivenment. 

Others on the Front Benches are not very interesting in 
speech or matter, excepting, occasionally, on army or naval 
questions. 

I could name a dozen others who are too often allowed to 
afflict us on the Unionist side, but the speakers on the Oppo- 
sition side are permitted even greater loquacity, and they 
really are terrible bores. Outside the House they are mostly 
all good fellows, but in the House they have no sense of pro- 
portion, and one and all take themselves too seriously. Some 
of them, I wish, could be sent to the Clock-Tower, where they 
could wrangle with Big Ben to their hearts' content. Others 
would be more esteemed if they were fettered to their seats and 
had their own lips locked, while a few are so bad that they 
should be sealed tight during the Session. At any rate, it is 
clearly no place for me. 

The House was very full, four hundred and thirteen Mem- 
bers voted ; and, of course, the war with the Transvaal was in 
every mind, and on every lip. All are agreed that KrUger's 
Ultimatum has been specially fortunate for the Government ; 
for it has been easy to discover that, but for this hot-headed 
outburst of the Transvaal Government, the general distaste 
for violent and strong measures would have severely strained 
the loyalty of the Government's supporters, so much so, 
I think, that I doubt whether the majority would have been 
so great as to encourage the Government to formulate the 
demands which the necessity of the case required. 

While listening to the remarks I heard on all sides of me in 
the Smoking-room, It appeared to me that the saying that 



504 HENRY M. STANLEY 

* those whom the gods wish to destroy, they first make mad,* 
was never so true as in this curious lapse of a Government that, 
suddenly, and for a trifle, throws all restraint aside, and 
becomes possessed of the most reckless fury. In his secret 
heart no Member, but thinks, after his own fashion, that it has 
been due to an interposition of Providence, Fate, Destiny, call 
it what name you like. I gather so much from the many ways 
the Members express their astonishment at Kruger throwing 
down the gauntlet, ending the discussion, and plunging into 
war. 

It has been a long duel between the Colonial Office and 
Krugerism; successive Secretaries of State, since 1881, have 
tried their best to get the vantage over the old Dutchman, 
and have either failed miserably, or have just been able to 
save their faces ; but Chamberlain, after four years of ups and 
downs, at one time almost in disgrace, being most unfairly 
suspected of abetting the Raid, and always verging on fail- 
ure, comes out of the duel with flying colours, through the 
intractable old Dutchman tiring of the long, wordy contest. 

The Irish have not been so violent as we expected they 
intended to be. We heard of a wish to be suspended ; but, on 
the whole, they have been tame : though Willie Redmond did 
not spare Chamberlain. 

Campbell-Bannerman spoke with two voices ; in the first 
half of his speech he talked like an English patriot, in the 
latter half he seemed to have reminded himself that he was 
the Leader of the Opposition, and showed ill-nature. Harcourt 
spoke this afternoon, long but without much force. In fact, 
the strings of the Opposition have been rendered inutile by 
Kruger' s Ultimatum to England, and the Boer invasion. The 
fact that we are at war checks everybody, and disarms them. 

July 26th, 1900. To-day has been my last sitting in Parlia- 
ment, for I have paired for the remainder of the Session, and 
Dissolution is very probable in September or October. 

I would not stand again for much ! 

I have never been quite free, after I understood the Parlia- 
mentary machine, from a feeling that it degraded me some- 
what to be in Parliament. 

I have, as a Member, less influence than the man in the 
street. On questions concerning Africa, Dilke, or some other 



FAREWELL TO PARLIAMENT 505 

wholly unacquainted with Africa, would be called upon to 
speak before me. I have far less influence than any writer in 
a daily newspaper; for he can make his living presence in 
the world felt, and, possibly, have some influence for good : 
whereas I, in common with other respectable fellows, are like 
dumb dogs. Yet I have, nay we all have, had to pay heavily 
for the hustling we get in the House. The mention of our 
names in the Press draws upon us scores of begging letters, 
and impertinent door-to-door beggars, who, sometimes, by 
sheer impudence, effect an entrance into our houses. The cor- 
respondence postage alone is a heavy tax, and would make a 
handsome provision for a large family during the year. The 
expenses incident to Parliamentary candidature and Parlia- 
mentary life are very heavy, and, in my opinion, it is disgrace- 
ful that a Member should be called upon to subscribe to every 
church, chapel, sport, bazaar, sale, etc., in his Constituency. 
But, while I do not grieve so much for the stupid expense, I 
do begrudge the items which remind me of the annoying beg- 
ging and the insolent importunity, that impressed me with 
the worthlessness of the honour of being a Parliamentary 
representative. Then, when I think of the uselessness of the 
expense, the labour of replying to the daily correspondence, 
the time wasted in it all, the late hours, the deadly air, the 
gradual deterioration of health, I wonder that anyone in his 
sober senses should consent to bother himself about a Parlia- 
mentary machine controlled as is this of ours. Any illusions 
that I may have had, illusions that I could serve the Empire, 
advance Africa's interests, benefit this country, were quickly 
dispelled. The Speaker's eye could not be caught; he would 
call on some glib talker, who really knew very little of his sub- 
ject; and, in this respect, also, I felt there was some degrada- 
tion for me, sitting there, to listen to such futilities. 

Individually, I repeat, the Members are the best of good 
fellows in the Smoking-room ; but Parliamentary procedure 
needs revising, and less opportunity should be given to those 
who talk only for talking's sake. Anyhow, I am glad at the 
prospect of retiring, and being quit of it all. 



CHAPTER XXV 
FURZE HILL 

IN the autumn of 1898, Stanley decided to look for a house in 
the country. We had lived, since our marriage, at 2, Richmond 
Terrace, Whitehall, close to the Houses of Parliament and 
Westminster Abbey; but though we were near the Thames and 
St. James Park, Stanley naturally felt the need of a more open-air 
life. We therefore decided to have a country retreat, as well as the 
home in town. In his Journal, November i, 1898, he writes: — 

To live at all, I must have open air, and to enjoy the open 
air, I must move briskly. I but wait to have a little more 
strength, when I can begin the search for a suitable house, 
with some land attached. It has long been my wish, and the 
mere thought of having come to a decision, that it is impera- 
tive to possess such a thing, before it is too late, tends towards 
the improvement of my health. 

Whatever Stanley undertook was thoroughly done. He collected 
lists of most of the House and Estate-agents, cut out the advertise- 
ments of places likely to suit, sorted them according to localities, 
and then went to work visiting them systematically. In his Journal 
he writes : — 

Between November 15th and 30th, I have seen twenty 
places, in Kent, Buckinghamshire, Berkshire, and Sussex, but 
found nothing suitable. 

In the photographs and descriptions furnished me by the 
House-agents, several of them looked quite inviting ; but often 
a mere glance was sufficient to turn me away disgusted. 
There was not a house which might be said to possess one 
decent-sized room; those D. saw, she utterly condemned. 

December i6th. I have now visited fifty-seven places ! Some 
few I reserved for a second visit with D. At last, I took her to 
see Furze Hill, Pirbright, Surrey, and, at the first glance, she 
said it was delightful, and could be made ideal. The more 
we examined it, the more we liked it ; but there was much to 
improve and renovate. Therefore, as the place pleased me 



FURZE HILL 507 

and my wife and her mother, I entered into serious negotia- 
tions for the purchase, and by Christmas, I had secured the 
refusal of it ; but as it was let, possession was deferred to the 
loth of June, 1899. 

Furze Hill is not more than thirty miles from London, but it is in 
wild and lovely country, wild and lovely because kept so, by the 
War Department, for manoeuvring grounds. The country around 
mostly consists of great stretches of furze and heather, which are 
golden and purple in summer, and rough pine woods. No one can 
buy land here, or build ; and Furze Hill is planted in this beautiful 
wilderness, just a house, gardens, a few fields, a wood, and a quiet 
lake, fed by a little stream. 

Furze Hill now became a great pleasure and occupation. The pur- 
chase of furniture occupied us all the spring and summer of 1899. 
Stanley's system and order was shewn in the smallest details. He 
kept lists and plans, with exact measurements of every room, pas- 
sage, and cupboard. 

On June loth, he notes in his Journal: — 

I have concluded the purchase and become the owner of 
Furze Hill ; building operations have already begun for the 
purpose of adding a new wing to the house. 

Stanley also commenced installing an electric lighting plant, and a 
very complete fire-engine. From the lake, which I called 'Stanley 
Pool,' ^ he pumped water to fill great tanks, the engine which drove 
the dynamo driving both pump and fire engine. On September 4th, 
he notes, ' went with D. to our House at Furze Hill. Slept for the 
first time at our country home,' He now took an ever-increasing 
delight in the place. He planned walks, threw bridges across streams, 
planted trees, built a little farm from his own designs, after reading 
every recent book on farm-building, and in a very short time trans- 
formed the place. 

Everything Stanley planned and executed was to last, to be 
strong, and permanent. He replaced the wooden window-frames 
by stone ; the fences were of the strongest and best description ; even 
the ends of the gate and fence-posts, he had dipped in pitch, and not 
merely in tar, that the portion in the ground might resist decay. It 
was his pride and his joy that all should be well done. And so, at last, 
peace and enjoyment came to Stanley, and he was quietly happy, 
till the last great trial came. Those who knew him there, will never 
forget the Stanley who revealed himself in that happy intimacy, 

^ Our little wood I called the Aruwimi Forest. A stream was named the Congo. 
To the fields I gave such African names as ' Wanyamwezi,' 'Mazamboni,' ' Katunzi,' 
' Luwamberri,' etc. One side of Stanley Pool is ' Umfwa,' the other ' Kinchassa,' and 
' Calino point.' Stanley was amused at my fancy, and adopted the names to designate 
the spots. — D. S. 



508 HENRY M. STANLEY 

those strolls through the woods and fields, those talks on the lawn, 
when we sat round the tea-table and listened to Stanley, till the dusk 
fell softly ; those wonderful evenings, by the library fire, when he 
told us stories of Africa with such vivid force that I never heard him 
without a racing heart and quickened breath ! No one who ever 
heard Stanley * tell a story ' could possibly forget it ! Only the other 
day, Richard Harding Davis wrote to me, ' Never shall I forget one 
late afternoon when Stanley, in the gathering darkness, told us the 
story of Gordon ! ' 

Stanley, however, was not always to be drawn ; sometimes, there- 
fore, I resorted to subterfuge, that I might lure him on. I would 
begin his stories all wrong, make many mistakes on purpose, know- 
ing his love of accuracy, till he could bear it no longer, and, brushing 
my halting words aside, he would plunge in, and swing along with 
the splendid narrative to the end. 

We were very happy now ! Building, planting, sowing, reaping. 
We called Furze Hill the ' Bride,' and we competed in decking her, 
and making her gifts. Stanley gave the Bride a fine Broadwood 
piano, and a billiard table. I gave her a new orchard. Stanley gave 
her a bathing-house and canoes. I gave her roses. 

One day Stanley told me that a case full of books had just ar- 
rived, which we could unpack together in the evening. The case 
was opened, and I greatly rejoiced at the prospect of book-shelves 
crammed with thrilling novels, and stories of adventure. Stanley 
carefully removed the layers of packing-paper, and then commenced 
handing out . . . translatidns of the Classics, Euripides, Xenophon 
again, Thucydides, Polybius, Herodotus, Caesar, Homer; piles of 
books on architecture, on lartdscape gardening, on house decoration ; 
books on ancient ships, on modern ship-building. ' Not a book for 
me!' I exclaimed dismally. Next week, another case arrived, and 
this time all the standard fiction, and many new books, were ranged 
on shelves awaiting them. 

Stanley's appetite for work in one shape or another was insatiable, 
and the trouble he took was always a surprise, even to me. Nothing 
he undertook was done in a half-and-half way. I have now the sheets 
upon sheets of plans he drew, of the little farm at Furze Hill, every 
measurement carefully made to scale, and the cost of each item, 
recorded, on the margin. 

And so he was happy, for his joy lay in the doing. 

In this year, 1899, Stanley was created G. C. B. 

How little any, but his few intimate friends, knew of Stanley! 
Others might guess, but they could not realise what of tenderness, 
gentleness, and emotion, lay behind that, seemingly, impenetrable 
reserve. 

As an instance of the curious ignorance existing regarding the real 
Stanley, I will tell an anecdote, both laughable and pathetic. 



FURZE HILL 509 

A short time after my marriage, I went to tea with a dear old 
friend. After talking of many things, my friend suddenly put her 
hand impressively on mine and said, ' Would you mind my asking 
you a question, for, somehow, I cannot help feeling — well — just 
a little troubled? It may, in some mysterious way, have been 
deemed expedient; but why — oh, why — did your husband order 
a little black baby to be flung into the Congo!' The dear good 
lady had tears in her eyes, as she adjured me to explain! Indigna- 
tion at first made me draw awdy from her, but then the ridiculous 
absurdity of her story struck me so forcibly, I began to laugh, and 
the more I laughed, the more pained and bewildered was my friend. 
' You believed that story? ' I asked. * You could believe it? ' * Well,' 
she replied, ' I was told it, as a fact.' 

When I repeated it to Stanley, he smiled and threw out his hand. 
' There, you see now why I am silent and reserved. . . . Would you 
have me reply to such a charge? ' And then he told me the story of 
the little black baby in Central Africa. 

As the expedition advanced, we generally found villages 
abandoned, scouts having warned the natives of our approach. 
The villagers, of course, were not very far off, and, as soon 
as the expedition had passed, they stole back to their huts 
and plantations. On one occasion, so great had been their 
haste, a black baby of a few months old was left on the ground, 
forgotten. 

They brought the little thing to me ; it was just a gobbet of 
fat, with large, innocent eyes. Holding the baby, I turned to 
my officers and said in chaff, * Well, boys, what shall we do 
with it?' ' Oh ! sir,' one wag cried, with a merry twinkle In his 
eye, ' throw it into the Congo I' Whereupon they all took up 
the chorus, 'Throw it, throw it, throw it into the Congo!' 
We were all in high boyish spirits that day ! 

I should rather have liked to take the baby on with me, and 
would have done so, had I thought it was abandoned ; but I 
felt sure the mother was not far off, and might, even then, 
be watching us, with beating heart, from behind a tree. So 
I ordered a fire to be kindled, as the infant was small and 
chilly, and I had a sort of cradle-nest scooped out of the earth, 
beside the fire, so that the little creature could be warm, shel- 
tered, and in no danger of rolling in. I lined the concavity 
with cotton-cloth, as a gift to the mother; and when we left 
that encampment, the baby was sleeping as snugly as if with 
its mother beside it, and I left them a good notion for cradles ! 



510 HENRY M. STANLEY 

Many children were born during the march of the Emin Rehef 
Expedition ; at one time there were over forty babies in camp ! The 
African mothers well knew that their little ones' safety lay with 
' Bwana Kuba,' the 'Great Master.' 

When the expedition emerged from the Great Forest, a report 
got about that the expedition was shortly to encounter a tribe of 
cannibals. That night Stanley retired to rest early, and soon fell 
asleep, for he was very exhausted. In the middle of the night, he 
was wakened by a vague plaint, the cry, as he thought, of some wild 
animal. The wail was taken up by others, and soon the air was filled 
by cat-like miaouls. Greatly puzzled, Stanley sat up, and then he 
heard slappings and bowlings. Thereupon, he arose and strode out, 
to find forty or so infants, carefully rolled up, and laid round his 
tent by the anxious mothers! Bula Matari, they said to themselves, 
would never allow the dreadful cannibals to eat their little ones, so 
they agreed together that the night-nursery must be as close as pos- 
sible to the Great Master's tent! This, however, was forbidden in 
future, as it made rest impossible. 

Now that I am writing of the period of repose and enjoyment 
which was a kind of Indian Summer in Stanley's life, it may be in 
place to make a comment on his Introduction to the Autobiogra- 
phy. It was the beginning of a work which was broken off and laid 
aside many years before his death, so that it never received the 
stamp of his deliberate and final approval before being given to the 
world. The crowning thought of the Introduction may be regarded 
as the keynote of his character : ' I was not sent into the world to 
be happy nor to search for happiness. I was sent for a special work.' 
But the note of melancholy which runs through the Introduction 
is to be taken as the expression of a transient mood, and not as a 
characteristic and habitual trait. Such a passing cloud was not un- 
natural in a man with great capacity for emotion, and an extraordi- 
nary range of experiences, and who possessed, as Mr. Sidney Low 
has reminded us, the Cymric temperament, with its alternations of 
vivid lights and deep shadows. 

I have delayed making any remark on the element of higher and 
various happiness in his life. I have delayed it until this point in the 
story, that the reader might view it, not as my own special pleading, 
but in the light of his self-revelation as scattered through the many 
pages of this record. They show, with a fulness which needs no re- 
capitulation here, how the cruelties of his youth as well as the hard- 
ships and misconstructions of his later years, had as their counter- 
poise the noble joys of manly action, in its heroic and victorious 
phases, the alternations of such rest as only toilers know, the minis- 
trations of natural grandeur and beauty, of literature, of congenial 
society, the pure delights of friendship and of love. 

One passage in the Introduction may sound to the reader as yet 
unacquainted with the man, like a cry de profundis, ' Look ... at 



FURZE HILL 511 

any walk of life, and answer the question, as to your own soul, 
Where shall I find Love ? ' 

Later he has told us something of where he did find it. He found 
it in the heart of Africa and of David Livingstone. He found it in 
his company of Zanzibaris, who, after following him through all the 
terrors of the Dark Continent, offered to leave their newly-recovered 
home to escort him in safety to his far-distant home. He found it in 
such comrades as Mackinnon, Parke, Jephson, and especially Bruce 
(pages 459, 460) , of whom he exclaims, ' I could have been contented 
on a desert island with Bruce ' ; in such men as Sir George Grey, and 
a few others; and in the sanctuary of his home. 

Against the sharp incessant blows which early and long rained on 
a heart hungry for love, he learned to shield himself by an armour 
which might easily be mistaken for natural hardness; and that ar- 
mour was toughened under the discipline of the endless work, and 
grew yet firmer as he braced himself against the slanders of igno- 
rance and malignity. And, as his Introduction tells us, he grew 
fastidious in his affections, and few were those he found worthy of 
full intimacy. 

But at the touch of a congenial nature the barriers dissolved. 
He knew in its fulness the joys of the idealist and the lover. And 
he knew, too, the homely and tranquil pleasures which serve best 
for ' human nature's daily food.' For in his daily life, Stanley was 
really very happy, in a quiet and quite simple way. He was never 
gloomy or morose, but exceedingly cheerful when he was well. On 
the approach of illness he was very silent, and then — I knew ! 

He was extraordinarily modest, and, in a crowd of people enthu- 
siastic about him, felt like running away. He loved quiet hospital- 
ity to a few friends, with Denzil and me to back him; then he was 
a happy boy. To the very end he found real joy in ' the doing.' He 
did not look beyond home for happiness; Denzil, Furze Hill, his 
books, his writing, planning * improvements,' filled his cup of happi- 
ness — happiness which he had not sought for in life, but accepted 
simply and thankfully when it came to him. 



CHAPTER XXVI 
THE CLOSE OF LIFE 

THE year 1903 found Stanley very busy making further 
improvements, building, and planting. The house at Furze 
Hill, in 1900, had practically been rebuilt by him; every 
year he added something, and all was done in his own way, per- 
fectly and thoroughly; even the builders learnt from him. After 
Stanley's death, the builder asked to see me. ' I came that I 
might tell you how much I owe to Sir Henry ; even in my own line 
he taught me, he made me more thorough, more conscientious. 
Would you have any objection to my calling my house after his 
African name?' 

In November, 1902, Stanley began drawing plans for enlarging 
the hall, drawing-room, and other rooms. He made careful mea- 
sured drawings, to scale. The hall was enlarged for a billiard table 
and upraised seats. We could neither of us play, but he said, * I want 
those who come to stay here, to enjoy themselves.' 

The nursery was to have a terraced balcony, built over the hall, 
and all this was done through the winter months, Stanley con- 
stantly there to superintend. When the building was finished, he 
alone saw to the decorating and furnishing, as it was all to be a 
surprise for me. 

In March, 1903, Stanley first complained of momentary attacks 
of giddiness ; it made me rather uneasy, so I accompanied him every- 
where. 

Just before Easter, we were walking near the Athenaeum Club, 
when he swayed and caught my arm. My anxiety, though still 
vague, oppressed me, and I was very unwilling to let him go alone 
to Furze Hill ; but he insisted, as he said there were yet a few ' fin- 
ishing touches to put,' before we came down for Easter. 

Great was my relief when we were summoned to Furze Hill; 
everything was ready at last ! 

And there he stood at the entrance to welcome us! He looked 
so noble and radiant! He took me round, and showed me the new 
rooms, the fresh decorations and furnishings, all chosen by himself ; 
but — beautiful as everything seemed — it was just Stanley, he 
who had conceived and carried out all this for my enjoyment, it 
was Stanley himself I was all the time admiring. 

He had thought of everything, even 'fancy trifles,' as he called 
the delicate vases, and enamelled jars on the mantelpieces and 
brackets. 



THE CLOSE OF LIFE 513 

There was a new marble mantelpiece in the drawing-room, deco- 
rated with sculptured cupids, 'because we both love babies,' he 
said. Stanley had even replenished the store-room, fitted it up as 
for an expedition, or to stand a siege. There were great canisters of 
rice, tapioca, flour enough for a garrison, soap, cheese, groceries 
of all kinds, everything we could possibly require, and each jar and 
tin was neatly ticketed in his handwriting, besides careful lists, 
written in a store-book, so that I might know, at a glance, the 
goodly contents of the room. 

Those fifteen days were wonderfully happy, and the light shining 
in Stanley's eyes gave me deep inward peace; but it was short-lived, 
for, on April the 15th, the giddiness returned; and in the night of 
the 17th, the blow fell, and the joy that had been, could never come 
again. 

Stanley awakened me by a cry, and I found he was without 
speech, his face drawn, and his body paralysed on the left side. 

No sooner had the doctors withdrawn, that first terrible morn- 
ing, than he made me understand that he wished to be propped up 
in bed. Now, absolute quiet had been strictly enjoined, as Stanley 
was only partially conscious, but he always expected to be obeyed, 
and to have thwarted him at such a time would, I feared, only 
have agitated him. I therefore raised and supported him, and then 
he made me understand that he must shave I I fetched his razors, 
brush, soap, and water ; I prepared the lather, which he applied him- 
self with trembling hand, the only hand he could use; and then with 
eyes blood-shot, his noble face drawn, his mind dazed, but his will 
still indomitable, Stanley commenced shaving. I held his cheek and 
chin for him ; he tried to see himself in the mirror I held, but his 
eyes could not focus, nevertheless he succeeded in shaving clean I 

Some days after, when he had recovered complete consciousness 
and speech, I found he had no recollection of having shaved. I 
give this account as a typical instance of Stanley's self-control and 
resolution. He had often told me that, on his various expeditions, 
he had made it a rule, always to shave carefully. In the Great For- 
est, in 'Starvation Camp,' on the mornings of battle, he had never 
neglected this custom, however great the difficulty ; he told me he 
had often shaved with cold water, or with blunt razors : but ' I always 
presented as decent an appearance as possible, both for self-disci- 
pline and for self-respect, and it was also necessary as chief to do so.' 

Months passed ; spring, summer, autumn, Stanley lay there, stead- 
fast, calm, uncomplaining; never, by word or sigh, did he express 
grief or regret. He submitted grandly, and never seemed to me 
greater, or more courageous, than throughout that last year of 
utter helplessness and deprivation. 

Stanley, the very embodiment of proud independence, was as 
weak and helpless as a little child ! 

But I had him still. I felt that nothing in the whole world sig- 
nified since I had him still ; and as I looked at his grand head lying 



514 HENRY M. STANLEY 

on the pillows, I felt I could be happy in a new and more supreme 
way, if only I need not give him up. 

Soon, I learnt to lift him, with someone just to support his feet; 
but it was I, and I alone, who held him; at times, I had a sort of 
illusion that I was holding him back from Death ! Coleridge wrote 
to his friend T. Poole, ' I have a sort of sensation, as if, while I was 
present, none could die whom I intensely loved.' 

And so, although the careless confidence of joy was gone, I had 
the holy, deep exaltation arising from the feeling that he was there, 
with me. 

He got somewhat better as time passed, and spent the greater 
part of the day on the lawn, in an invalid-chair. His friend, Henry 
Wellcome, came every week to sit with him, thus breaking the 
monotony of the unchanging days. By September, Stanley com- 
menced to stand, and to walk a few steps, supported ; speech had 
returned, but close attention quickly wearied him, and fatigue fol- 
lowed any attempt at physical or mental effort. 

He would say, that as the stroke had fallen so suddenly, he hoped 
it might as suddenly be lifted : ' I shall get the message, it may come 
in the night, in the twinkling of an eye, and then lo! I shall walk.' 

The message came. It came in the final liberation, in the freeing 
from this mechanism of earth ; and Stanley waited, grandly calm, 
never assuming a cheerfulness he could not feel, his deeply-ingrained 
truthfulness made that impossible; but he kept a lofty attitude of 
submission, he was ever a commander, a leader of men, Bula Ma- 
tari, the Rock-Breaker, who had every courage, even to this last. 

In the late autumn of 1903, we returned to London, and there 
had some months of not unhappy reprieve. I read aloud to him, 
and we sat together in great peace. We did not talk of the life to 
come, nor of religion ; Stanley had lived his religion, and disliked 
conjectural talk of the future life; he believed in a life everlasting, 
but if ever I spoke of it, he dismissed the subject, saying, ' Ah ! now 
you go beyond me.' 

At Easter in 1904, Stanley wished to return to Furze Hill, so we 
went there towards the end of March. The change did him good, 
he was hopeful, believing himself better; but on the 17th of April, 
the very anniversary of his first attack, he was smitten again, this 
time by pleurisy, and suffered very much. He now became most 
anxious to return to London, and, on the 27th, was taken by ambu- 
lance-carriage to town. 

As the pleurisy subsided, he revived ; "and one day he said to me, 
* I shall soon walk now, it is all passing from me.' I think he really 
meant he might recover, I do not think he was speaking of his ap- 
proaching death ; but, after a pause, he said, ' Where will you put 
me?' Then, seeing that I did not understand, he added, 'When I 
am — gone? ' 

I said, ' Stanley, I want to be near you ; but they will put your 
body in Westminster Abbey.' 



THE CLOSE OF LIFE 513 

He smiled lovingly at me, and replied, ' Yes, where we were mar- 
ried; they will put me beside Livingstone' ; then, after a pause, he 
added, ' because it is right to do so ! ' 

A few days later, he put out his hand to me and said, ' Good-bye, 
dear, I am going very soon, I have — done! ' 

On May the 3d, Stanley became lethargic ; but he roused him- 
self at times. Our little boy came in and gently kissed Stanley's 
hand; this wakened him, and, as he stroked Denzil's cheek, the 
child said, 'Father, are you happy?' — 'Always, when I see you, 
dear,' he replied. 

Mr. Wellcome came daily; once Stanley roused himself to talk 
to him of his dear officer, Mounteney Jephson, who was very ill at 
the time. 

The struggle of life and death commenced on the 5th of May, 
and lasted long, so great was Stanley's energy and vitality. Day 
followed night, night followed day, and he lay still, — sometimes 
quite conscious, but most of the time in a deep dream. 

On the last night, the night of Monday, the 9th of May, his mind 
wandered. He said, * I have done — all — my work — I have — 
circumnavigated ' — Then, later, with passionate longing, he cried, 
* Oh ! I want to be free ! — I want to go — into the woods — to be 
free!' 

Towards dawn, he turned his noble head to me, and, looking up 
at me, said, ' I want — I want — to go home.' 

At three A. M., he moved his hand on to mine, looking at me quite 
consciously, and gave me his last message : ' Good-night, dear ; go to 
bed, darling,' 

As four o'clock sounded from Big Ben, Stanley opened his eyes 
and said, 'What is that?' I told him it was four o'clock striking. 
' Four o'clock?' he repeated slowly ; ' how strange ! So that is Time ! 
Strange!' A little later, seeing that he was sinking, I brought stimu- 
lant to his lips, but he put up his hand gently, and repelled the cup, 
saying, 'Enough.' 

Then, as six o'clock rang out, Stanley left me, and was admitted 
into the nearer Presence of God. 

On Tuesday, May 17th, Stanley's body was carried to Westmin- 
ster Abbey. The coffin lay before the altar where we were mar- 
ried, and the Funeral Service was read, after which Henry Morton 
Stanley, that man of men, was buried in the village churchyard of 
Pirbright, Surrey. 

But history will remember that it was the Rev. Joseph Armitage; 
Robinson, Dean of Westminster, who refused to allow Stanley to be 
buried in Westminster Abbey ! 

Now, however, I am able to quote Sir George Grey's words, and 
say : — 

' I am inclined to think it is best that the matter should stand 
thus. Yet one thing was wanting to render the great drama complete^; 
would the man who had done all this, and supported such variouis 



5i6 HENRY M. STANLEY 

trials, be subjected to cold neglect for what he had accomplished? 
And I sit here, not lamenting, but with a feeling that all has taken 
place for the best, and that this absence of national recognition will 
only add an interest to Stanley's history in future years.' 

' He is gone who seem'd so great. — 
Gone ; but nothing can bereave him 
Of the force he made his own 
Being here, and we believe him 
Something far advanced in State, 
And that he wears a truer crown 
Than any wreath that man can weave him.' 

I wished to find some great monolith, to mark Stanley's grave; 
a block of granite, fashioned by the ages, and coloured by time. 

Dartmoor was searched for me, by Mr. Edwards of the Art 
Memorial Company; he visited Moreton, Chagford Gidleigh, Wal- 
labrook, Teigncombe, Castor, Hemstone, Thorn worthy, etc., etc.; 
and, amid thousands of stones, none fulfilled all my requirements. 
The river stones were too round, those on the moor were too irreg- 
ular, or too massive. 

Owners of moorland farms, and tenants, took the keenest interest 
in the search ; and, at last, a great granite monolith was discovered 
on Frenchbeer farm ; its length was twelve feet, the width four feet. 

The owner and tenant gave their consent to its removal, only 
stipulating that a brass-plate should be fixed to a smaller stone, 
stating that from that spot was removed the stone which now stands 
at the head of Stanley's grave. The smaller stones which form the 
boundary of the enclosure were found quite near. 

The following short account of this great headstone to Stanley's 
grave was printed at the time : — 

' These moorland stones are for the great part recumbent. The few 
which stand to-day were raised as memorials to chieftains; others 
form circles, huts, and avenues, and remain to us the silent wit- 
nesses of a race, of whose history we know so little. Whatever their 
past history may be, it seems fitting that one should be raised in our 
time to this great African leader. It has now a definite work to do, 
and for ages yet to come, will bear the name of that great son to 
whom the wilds of Dartmoor were as nothing, compared with that 
vast continent which he opened up, and whose name will live, not 
by this memorial, but as one of the great Pioneers of Christianity, 
Civilization, and Hope to that dark land of Africa.' 

After much labour, the great stone, weighing six tons, was trans- 
ported to Pirbright churchyard, where it now stands, imperishable 
as the name cut deep into its face. 

I desired to record simply his name, 'Henry Morton Stanley,' and 
beneath it, his great African name, * Bula Matari,' For epitaph, the 
single word 'Africa,' and above all, the Emblem and Assurance of 
Life Everlasting, the Cross of Christ. 




IN THE VILLAGE CHURCHYARD, PIRBRIGHT 



CHAPTER XXVII 
THOUGHTS FROM NOTE-BOOKS 

ON RELIGION 

CIVIL law is not sufficient by itself for mankind. It is 
for the protection of men from abuse, and for the pun- 
ishment of offenders; but religion teaches just inter- 
course, unselfishness, self-denial, virtue, just dealing, love of 
our fellow-creatures, compassion, kindness, forbearance, pa- 
tience, fortitude, lofty indifference to death by spiritual exal- 
tation. While atheists and heathens would regard only their 
own self-advantage, opposing craft to an opponent's detri- 
ment, a religious man would be persuaded that he could not 
do so without a sense of wrong-doing, and would strive to act 
so as to ensure his own good opinion and those of other con- 
scientious, just-minded fellow-men. 

Religion is my invisible shield against moral evil, against 
the corruption of the mind, against the defilement of the soul. 
As there are specifics for the preserving of cleanliness of the 
body, so is religion for the preservation of the mind ; and it 
protects the intelligence from becoming encrusted with layer 
upon layer of sin. 

Religion is an invaluable curb on that inner nature of man, 
which longest remains barbarous and uncivilised. 

I am not animated by the hope of a heavenly reward, such 
as has been promised. It is my reason which tells me that I 
owe a duty to God as my Maker, and that is, not to offend 
Him. The Bible tells me, through its writers, of certain in- 
structions and certain Laws that those who desire to please 
Him should follow and obey. Many of these Laws and in- 
structions appeal to my own sense as being His due; and 
therefore I shall conform to them as closely as my nature will 
permit. When I perceive that they are too hard for nature, I 
will pray for His divine help to withstand the temptations of 
nature ; for more power of restraint ; for more docile submis- 



5i8 HENRY M. STANLEY 

sion to His will ; for more understanding to comprehend what 
is pleasing to Him, for more gentleness ; for moral strength to 
combat that which my sense assures me is evil, and unworthy 
of one endowed with such attributes as belong to me. I will 
keep ever striving to perform acts pleasing to Him, while I 
have the power, leaving it to Him to judge whether my en- 
deavours to abstain from evil, and perform that which was 
right, have been according to the intelligence and moral 
power He entrusted me with. Meantime, I must keep my- 
self open to conviction, so that whenever it shall be my good 
fortune to light upon that which will clearly inform me as to 
the exact way to serve and please God, it will be possible for 
me to conform ; and I must by no means offend Him by negli- 
gence in doing that which I know ought to be done. 

ON THE INFLUENCE OF RELIGION 

To relate a little of the instances in my life wherein I have 
been grateful for the delicate monitions of an inner voice, 
recalling me, as it were, to 'my true self,' it would be difficult 
for me to do their importance justice. I, for one, must not, 
dare not, say that prayers are inefficacious. Where I have 
been earnest, I have been answered. 

What have these earnest prayers consisted of, mainly? 

I have repeated the Lord's Prayer a countless number of 
times ; but, I must confess, my thoughts have often wandered 
from the purport of the words> But when I have prayed for 
light to guide my followers wisely through perils which beset 
them, a ray of light has come upon the perplexed mind, and 
a clear road to deliverance has been pointed out. 

In the conduct of the various expeditions into Africa, 
prayer for patience, which bespoke more than an ordinary 
desire for patience, has enabled me to view my savage oppo- 
nents in a humorous light ; sometimes, with infinite compas- 
sion for their madness ; sometimes, with a belief that it would 
be a pity to punish too severely; and, sometimes, with that 
contempt which I would bestow upon a pariah dog. Patience 
has been granted to me, and I have left them storming madly. 
Without the prayer for it, I doubt that I could have endured 
the flourish of the spears when they were but half-a-dozen 
paces off. 



THOUGHTS FROM NOTE-BOOKS 519 

When my own people have wilfully misbehaved, after re- 
peated warnings, I have prayed for that patience which would 
enable me to regard their crimes with mercy, and that my 
memory of their gross wickedness should be dulled ; and, after 
the prayer, it has appeared to me that their crimes had lost 
the atrocity that I had previously detected in them. When 
oft-repeated instances of the efficacy of prayer were remem- 
bered, I have marvelled at the mysterious subtleness with 
which the answer has been delivered. 

'Lord God, give me my people, and let me lead them in 
safety to their homes ; then do Thou with me as Thou wilt,' 
was my prayer the night preceding the day the remnant of 
the Rear-Column was found. True, they were there, they had 
not moved since July 17th; but I did not know it. 

'Give my people back to me, O Lord. Remember that 
we are Thy creatures, though our erring nature causes us 
to forget Thee. Visit not our offences upon our heads, Gracious 
God ! * And thus that night was passed in prayer, until the 
tired body could pray no more. But the next dawn, a few 
minutes after the march had begun, my people were restored 
to me, with food sufficient to save the perishing souls at the 
camp. 

On all my expeditions, prayer made me stronger, morally 
and mentally, than any of my non-praying companions. It 
did not blind my eyes, or dull my mind, or close my ears ; but, 
on the contrary, it gave me confidence. It did more : it gave me 
joy, and pride, in my work, and lifted me hopefully over the 
one thousand five hundred miles of Forest tracks, eager to face 
the day's perils and fatigues. You may know when prayer 
is answered, by that glow of content which fills one who has 
flung his cause before God, as he rises to his feet. It is the 
first reward of the righteous act, the act that ought to have 
been done. When my anticipations were not realised to their 
fulness, what remained was better than nought; and what 
is man, that he should quarrel with the Inevitable? 

ON PRAYER 

I have evidence, satisfactory to myself, that prayers are 
granted. By prayer, the road sought for has become visible, 
and the danger immediately lessened, not once or twice or 



520 HENRY M. STANLEY 

thrice, but repeatedly, until the cold, unbelieving heart was 
impressed. 

This much I have derived from many a personal experi- 
ence. 

I have forgotten my prayers ; my sensibilities have been so 
deadened by the sordid scenes around me that my soul was not 
aroused to feel that there was a refuge for distress. Worldly 
thoughts absorbed my attention ; I became a veritable pagan, 
ever ready, on occasion, to sneer and express utter disbelief. 
Finally, I have drawn near a danger, and, in its immediate 
presence, I have understood its character better ; every faculty 
is then brought to bear upon and around it, and a sense of 
utter hopelessness takes possession of my mind. There is no 
cowardice, no thought of retreat ; rescue or no rescue, I must 
face it. 

At first, I believe that it will be possible to confront it, go 
through with it, emerge from it safely. What is wanting, but 
light? Next, I am reminded that such a scene occurred 
before, and that prayer relieved me. Ah! but I have so long 
refrained from prayer, can I believe that, now, prayer would 
be answered? I have forfeited the right to be heard. Have 
I not joined the scoffers, and smiled in contempt at such 
puerile ideas, and said, ' Prayers were well enough when we 
were children, but not now, when I have lived so long with- 
out the sign of a miracle* ? And yet — prayer has saved me. 

Civilised society rejoices in the protection afforded to it 
by strong armed law. Those in whom faith in God is strong 
feel the same sense of security in the deepest wilds. An in- 
visible Good Influence surrounds them, to Whom they may 
appeal in distress, an Influence which inspires noble thoughts, 
comfort in grief, and resolution when weakened by misfor- 
tune. I imperfectly understand this myself, but I have faith 
and believe. I know that, when I have called, I have been 
answered, strengthened, and assisted. I am prone to forget- 
fulness, and to much pride; but I cannot forget that, when 
an accusing thought entered my soul like a sword, I became 
penitent and responded. Subduing my unbelief, I prayed, 
and obtained a soothing grace which restored to me a confi- 
dence and cheerfulness which was of benefit to myself and 
others. 



THOUGHTS FROM NOTE-BOOKS 521 

ON RELIGIOUS EDUCATION 

The white man's child has a more fertile nature than the sav- 
age. The two natures differ as much as the fat-soiled garden 
near the Metropolis differs from the soil of the grassy plains in 
Africa, the only manure of which has been the ash of scorched 
grass. The cultivated garden will grow anything almost to 
perfection ; the African prairie will grow but a poor crop of 
hardy maize or millet. Religion acts as a moral gardener, to 
weed out, or suppress, evil tendencies, which, like weeds and net- 
tles, would shoot up spontaneously in the wonderful compost 
of the garden, if unwatched. The surroundings of the child's 
mind resemble the fertilising constituents of that garden soil. 

The demands, by-laws, necessities, of a feverish, yet idle, 
Society, serve to evolve an abortive man, without truth, 
honesty, usefulness, or enthusiasm. He has no physical 
strength, or mental vigour ; serious in nothing, not even in the 
pursuit of variety or frivolity, not a word he utters can be 
believed, by himself or anybody else ; for, simplest words have 
lost their common meaning, and simplest acts are not to be 
described by any phrase required by veracity. Religion in- 
spires the moral training requisite to crush these noxious 
fungi of civilised life. The savage is licensed to kill, to defend 
his misdeed by simple lying, to steal, in order to supply his 
daily wants. The white child kills character with his tongue, 
he robs wholesale where the savage robs by grains. 

ON SIR EDWIN Arnold's 'light of the world' 

After reading a few hundred lines of Edwin Arnold's new 
poem,^ 'The Light of the World,' I perceived that he had 
not hit the right chord. It is 'The Light of Asia,' in a feeble, 
vapid style ; or, to put it more correctly, it is a Buddhist trying 
to sing the glories of the Christian's Lord. His soul is not in 
his song, though there are beautiful passages in it ; but it is the 
tone of an unbeliever. Alas for this ! What a poem he could 
have written, had he but believed in the Saviour of the world ! 

MIND and soul 

My own mind, I know, has been derived from God. Its 
capacity, in this existence, is measurable. I feel that, up to 

* Extract from the Journal, dated February 14, 1891. 



522 HENRY M. STANLEY 

a certain point, it could expand, but, beyond that, is mad- 
ness. It can descend to a certain point below normal; below 
that would be ruin. Being measurable, it is just suited to 
my limited nature. It is marvellously expansible; it can also 
descend to that pin-point and faint glimmer of reason at zero 
which guides the brute. The Intangible, Invisible, yet Al- 
mighty Intellect conceived, by knowing, the beginnings of the 
spacious universe and its countless myriad of things; the 
brutes cannot comprehend this, but to me has been given 
just enough mind to be impressed by the vast and solemn fact 
of this immeasurable knowledge. As my mind governs me, 
and all that belongs to me, in the same manner I conceive 
that every movement of the universe and its myriad of con- 
stituents is subject to some Divine Mind. This Divine mind 
is the power of a Personal Spirit which is God, Who has en- 
dowed humanity with the necessary, though limited, portion 
of His own subtle and all-powerful intelligence. 

All my instincts warn me that this is so ; but that, so long 
as it is imprisoned by this earthly matter, it cannot give 
itself that freedom. When freed from it, my spirit will bound 
to its source. 

A contracted, insect-mind, it is often. Fancy it groping 
with its tentacles, stretched almost to snapping, far into 
yet further spaces ; then, suddenly contracting into apparent 
mindlessness, at the buzz of a fly, the bite of an insect, the 
pang of small nerve! With aspirations after a seat in the 
Heaven of Heavens, yet, more often, content to wallow in 
the mud — thereby proving its relationship to the noblest 
and the meanest ! Without that portion of Divinity it could 
not imagine its obligation to the Creator, nor be conscious 
of its affinity with the brutes. 

ON THE FEAR OF DEATH 

The weakness of our number against the overpowering 
force of savages * forbade resistance. Against such a multitude, 
what hope had we? The imminence of death brought with 
it a strange composure. I did not fear it as I imagined I should ; 
a fortitude to bear anything came to me, and I could actu- 

* At Bumbireh. See Stanley's Through the Dark Continent. 



THOUGHTS FROM NOTE-BOOKS 523 

ally smile contemptuously at the former craven fear of its 
pain and the sudden rupture of life. 

ON ILLUSIONS 

Though many illusions are of a character we should gladly 
cherish, yet the sooner we lose some of them, the sooner we 
gain the power of seeing clearly into things. The one who 
possesses least has the best chance of becoming wise. The 
man who travels, and reflects, loses illusions faster than he 
who stays at home. There are nevertheless some illusions, 
which, when lost, he bitterly regrets. 

To-day, I can feel comfortably at home in almost any 
country ; and can fully appreciate the truth of Shakespeare's 
words, that ' To a wise man, all places that the eye of Heaven 
visits are ports and happy havens.' Yet I sympathise still 
with that belief of my youth, that Wales, being my native 
land, possessed for me superior charms to any other. 

Had I seen no other wondrous lands, met no other men 
and women with whom I could sympathise, it is probable 
that I should have retained the belief that Wales was the 
finest country in the world, and the Welsh people the best. I 
used to believe the Bishop was the holiest man living; the 
Rev. Mr. Smalley, of Cwm, the biggest man; Sam Ellis, of 
Llanbach, the strongest man ; Hicks Owen, the finest preacher ; 
my cousin Moses, the most scholarly ; the Vale of Clwyd, the 
prettiest ; Liverpool, the biggest and most populous town ; and 
the Welsh people, the superior of any in the whole world. 

Without any effort of mine, or anybody else's, to disabuse 
me of these illusions, I have seen hundreds just as holy as the 
Bishop, bigger men than the Cwm rector, stronger men than 
Sam Ellis, better preachers than Hicks Owen, men more 
scholarly than Moses Owen, prettier scenery than the Clwyd, 
richer and more populous towns than Liverpool, and more 
advanced people than the Welsh! 

THE TRAINING OF YOUNG MEN, AND EDUCATION 

When I was young, a religious and moral training was con- 
sidered necessary,^ as well as an intellectual education, for the 

^ This is not yet the policy of England. Thus we find Mr. Runciman, President 
of the Board of Education, saying (February lo, 1909) that he believed that the teachers, 



524 HENRY M. STANLEY 

improvement of youth ; but, since the banishment of the Bible 
from the schools, it has been deemed wise to pay attention to 
the training of the intellect alone, while the natural disposi- 
tion of youth has caused attention to be paid to athletics. 

With a few choice natures this might be sufficient, but 
I observe that the generality of young men have not that 
respect for moral obligations it would be desirable to foster. 
The youth whose word is unimpeachable, whose courage is 
based on a thorough comprehension of his duty, called moral, 
whose spirit bends before its dictates, yet is capable of being 
inspired by honour, and swayed by discipline, is far more use- 
ful, valuable, and trustworthy than an athlete with all the 
intellectual attainments of a Senior Wrangler ; but an athlete 
combining such moral and intellectual gifts would inspire 
love and admiration wherever he went. 

When our sons are steady, reliable, and honest, as well as 
scholars and athletes, this nation will top the list of nations, 
as there are no excellences superior to these obtainable, and 
these will lead the world for ages yet. The Presbyterianism of 
Cromwell did much ; but we can beat that, if we aim for the 
best. The three M's are all that we need — Morals, Mind, 
and Muscles. These must be cultivated, if we wish to be 
immortal — we are in danger of paying attention to Mind 
and Muscle only. 

ON EDUCATION 

Schools turn out men efficient enough in reading, writing, 
ciphering, and deportment; they then go forth to face the 
world, and they find their school education is the smallest 
part of what they have in future to learn. They are fit for no 
profession or employment. 

The average school-boy and college man cannot under- 
stand business, cannot build or make anything, cannot com- 
mand men ; only after long and laborious practice can he be 
entrusted to do rightly any of these things. Three-fourths 
of those who came to Africa were qualified only in the ac- 
complishments of the school-boy. They were unpractised in 

as well as the parents, desired that the children should be brought up reverentially and 
righteously, and there was no better way than basing the teaching upon a biblical 
foundation, which had existed from time immemorial, and which it would be foolish 
and reckless to uproot. — D. S. 



THOUGHTS FROM NOTE-BOOKS 525 

authority, untrustworthy as to obedience, ignorant of self- 
command ; they had apparently never sounded their own 
virtues or capacities; they appeared surprised and incapable 
when called upon to think for themselves. The public schools 
and colleges do not teach young men to think. 

ON LEARNING 

Learning, by which is commonly understood the results 
of assimilation of varied and long years of reading, reflection, 
and observation, is the capital of intellect, and is an honoured 
thing. It is composed of literary acquisitions subjected to 
mental analysis. It certainly contributes to the elevation of 
man to a lofty sphere ; and yet, after all, I am inclined to think 
that great as a literary man may be from the store of intel- 
lectual treasures he may have acquired, he gets an undue 
proportion of the world's admiration. The master-minds of a 
nation are many and various, The great statesman, the great 
administrator, the great inventor, the great man of science, the 
multitude of nameless, but bold and resolute, pioneers, those, 
for instance, who made Australasia ; our great missionaries, 
those brave, patient souls who, in distant lands, devote their 
lives to kindling the fires of Christianity in savage breasts; 
the missionaries at home, who are unweariedly exhorting and 
encouraging the poor and despairing, exciting the young and 
heroic virtue of these, and many more, who go to make the 
leaders of a civilised nation, — we hear little of these, com- 
pared with what we are told of men who write books. But 
the stones which go to make the palatial edifice have been 
laid by many hands. Why does most of the honour go to the 
writer of books ? 

ON REAL RECREATION 

'Joy's Soul lies in the doing, 
And the Rapture of pursuing. 
Is the prize.' 

Even rest is found in occupation, and striving. It is labour 
which kills discontent, and idle repose which slays content; 
for it creates a myriad of ills, and a nausea of life, it brings 
congestion to the organs of the body, and muddles the clear 
spring of intelligence. The heart is heated by our impatience, 



526 HENRY M. STANLEY 

while the soul is deflected from its vigorous course by excess 
of shameful ease, Joy's Soul lies in the doing ! The truth which 
lies in this verse explains that which has caused many a per- 
sonality to become illustrious. It is an old subject in poetry. 
Shakespeare, Milton, Wordsworth, Longfellow, and many 
more have rung the changes, or expressed the idea, in verse. 

Milton, though troubled with blindness and domestic 
misery, was happy in the lofty scenes conjured up by his 
poetic imagination, and therefore he could have said, * Joy's 
Soul lies in the doing. And the Rapture of pursuing is the 
prize.* 

Livingstone was happy in the consciousness that he was 
engaged in a noble work, and the joy in the grand conse- 
quences that would follow. This self-imposed mission ban- 
ished remembrance of the advance of age, and made him 
oblivious of the horrors of his position. What supported 
Gordon during the siege of Khartoum, but this inward joy 
in his mission which his nature idealised and glorified? 
Coleridge says : — 

* Joy, Lady ! is the spirit and the power 
Which wedding Nature to us gives in dower.* 

ON REVIEWS AND REVIEWERS 

The Reviews of my books have sometimes been too one- 
sided, whether for, or against, me. The Reviewer is either ful- 
some, or he is a bitter savage, striking stupidly because of 
blind hate. A Review in the ' New York Tribune,' for in- 
stance, or the * New York Independent,' the American * Sun,* 
the 'Times,' ' Morning Post,' or * Daily Telegraph,' is, how- 
ever, the disinterested outcome of study, and is really in- 
structive and worth reading. 

It was owing to repeated attacks of the Public and Press 
that I lost the elastic hope of my youth, the hope, and belief, 
that toil, generosity, devotion to duty, righteous doing, would 
receive recognition at the hands of my fellow-creatures who 
had been more happily born, more fortunately endowed, more 
honoured by circumstances and fate than I. It required much 
control of natural waywardness to reform the shattered as- 
pirations. For it seemed as though the years of patient watch- 



THOUGHTS FROM NOTE-BOOKS 527 

fulness, the long periods of frugality, the painstaking self- 
teaching in lessons of manliness, had ended disastrously in 
failure. 

For what was my reward ? Resolute devotion to a certain 
ideal of duty, framed after much self-exhortation to up- 
rightness of conduct, and righteous dealing with my fellow- 
creatures, had terminated in my being proclaimed to all the 
world first as a forger, and then as a buccaneer, an adven- 
turer, a fraud, and an impostor ! It seemed to reverse all order 
and sequence, to reverse all I had been taught to expect. 
Was this what awaited a man who had given up his life for 
his country and for Africa? He who initiates change must 
be prepared for opposition; the strong-willed is bound to be 
hated. But the object need not be sacrificed for this. A man 
shall not swerve from his path because of the barking of dogs. 

Spears in Africa were hurtful things, and so was the calumny 
of the press here ; but I went on and did my work, the work 
I was sent into the world to do. 

ON READING THE NEWSPAPERS 

That which has to be resisted in reading newspapers is the 
tendency to become too vehement about many things with 
which really I have no concern. I am excited to scorn and 
pity, enraged by narratives of petty events of no earthly con- 
cern to me, or any friend of mine. I am roused to indignation 
by ridiculous partisanship, by loose opinions, hastily formed 
without knowledge of the facts. Columns of the papers are 
given up to crime, to records of murder, and unctuous lead- 
ers on them. Many newspapers are absolutely wanting in 
patriotism. A week of such reading makes me generally in- 
dulgent to moral lapses, inclines me to weak sentimentalism, 
and causes me to relax in the higher duty I owe to God, my 
neighbour, and myself; in short, many days must elapse be- 
fore I can look into my own eyes, weigh with my own mind, 
and be myself again. In Africa, where I am free of news- 
papers, the mind has scope in which to revolve, virtuously 
content. Civilisation never looks more lovely than when 
surrounded by barbarism ; and yet, strange to say, barbarism 
never looks so inviting to me as when I am surrounded by 
civilisation. 



528 HENRY M. STANLEY 



RETURNING TO ENGLAND 

When returning to Britain from the Continent, I am not 
struck by the great superiority of that land over France, 
Italy, Belgium, and Germany; in some things it is decidedly 
inferior, as in the more substantial structure, and more pleas- 
ing appearance, of the homes abroad : they are bigger, loftier, 
cleaner, and handsomer, the public buildings more imposing. 

France and Italy shine with whiteness, Britain appears 
in a half-cleaned-up state, after being drenched with soot; 
its sky seems more threatening, and though the leafage and 
grass in the fields are pleasantly green, the stems and twigs 
are exceedingly black. The white cottages, with red tiles, of 
France, are more beautiful than the dingy brick and dark 
slate of England. 

The generous union of hearts and hands, loving brother- 
hood, equality of one sturdy farmer with another, are bet- 
ter exemplified by the open, cultivated fields of Europe, 
than by the miserable, useless hedges, which, by their crooked 
lines marking the small properties, tell me which one is poor, 
which better-off, which rich. Then I hate the waste of good 
land, and while the island is but small, thousands of square 
miles are absorbed by the briar and hawthorn-topped dykes, 
and their muddy ditches, which might be utilised in extending 
fields to grow corn for man, and grass for cattle. 

Then, on reaching London, compare the sad-looking streets, 
which you look down upon from the lofty railway, with the 
bright Paris you left in the morning. You may compare 
the one to a weeping widow, the other to a gay bride ; or to a 
slatternly fishwoman and to a neat grisette. These thoughts 
tend to make one humble-minded, and admit that, after all 
you have heard about the superiority of England, Frenchmen, 
Swiss, Germans, Italians, and Belgians have nothing to de- 
plore at being born in their own lands, whatever some Eng- 
lishmen may profess to feel for them; but that, rather, we 
Englishmen ought to grieve that things are so awry with our 
climate that we have so much to envy our neighbours. How- 
ever, when we descend from the train, and we mix with our 
countrymen, and hear their pleasing accents of English, are 
received with politeness by friends, Custom-house officials, and 



THOUGHTS FROM NOTE-BOOKS 529 

cabmen, a secret feeling of pleasure takes possession of us, and 
we rejoice that our native language is English, and that we' 
belong to the big, broad-chested race round about us. 

FORTY YEARS AGO 

It is the same nation; it is the same Queen; the present 
Ministers are twin brothers to those who governed then. In 
the pulpits and the schools the same preachers and teachers 
preach and teach. One might say that no change has taken 
place in forty years. It is certainly the same nation, but never- 
theless the people of to-day are different from the people of 
forty years ago. 

The captains of ships and officers of the army, the school- 
masters at the schools, and the governors of gaols, have aban- 
doned the birch and the * cat.' Instead of applying black 
marks on the bodies of their victims with smiles of content, 
they put black marks in a book opposite their names — and 
the curious punishment seems to have good effect, in many 
cases. 

A great change has also been effected in the Provinces. 
Forty years ago, they were years behind the Metropolis, Liver- 
pool and Manchester were only ' country cousins ' to London, 
and the people of the country were very far behind Liverpool 
and Manchester ; whereas now, a fashion coming out to-day 
in London will be out to-morrow in every village, almost, in 
Britain. 

Of course, the railway, the telegraph, and the Universal 
Providers are the causes of this universal transmission of 
metropolitan ideas and tastes. This is desirable in a great 
measure, because it has a stimulating and quickening tendency 
on * provincialism,' and militates against ' stodginess.' If we 
could only be sure that no matter vitiating the moral fibre 
of the nation also ran along the arteries of the land from its 
heart, we should have cause for congratulation ; but, if the 
extremities of the land absorb the impurities of the Metropolis, 
the strong moral fibre of the nation will soon be destroyed. 

There are things characteristic of the masses in towns, and 
other things which are, or were, characteristic of the country. 
But now the hot impulse of the city mobs has an appreciable 
effect on those in the provinces, erstwhile sturdier and more 



530 HENRY M. STANLEY 

deliberate. If we were always sure that the impulse was good 
and beneficial, there would be nothing to regret. The frivoli- 
ties of an aggregate of humanity such as London presents are 
inseparable from the many millions of people gathered within 
its walls ; but they are out of place under the blue sky, and in 
the peaceful, green fields of the country. The smoke of the 
city, and the roar of the traffic, obscure the heavens, and affect 
the nerves, until we almost forget the God Who rules, and our 
religious duties. 

Outside of London, the smiling fields, and, skywards, the 
rolling clouds and the shining sun, make us aware that there 
is a Presence we had almost forgotten. 

SOCIALISM 

Socialism is a return to primitive conditions. Where it is 
in force in Africa, on the Congo, especially, we see that their 
condition is more despicable than in East Africa. 

On the Congo, people are afraid to get richer than their 
neighbours. They would be objects of suspicion ; some day the 
tribe would doom them, and they would be burnt. Property 
in common has often been tried in America : e. g., the original 
Virginian settlers, the Pilgrims in Massachusetts, the Shakers, 
and others ; but they have had to abandon the project. Merely 
by preventing the spoliation of their fellows, and giving each 
man freedom to develop his powers, we have done a prodigious 
good in Africa. 

Man must be protected from his fellow-man's greed, as well 
as from his anger. Individuals require to be protected from 
the rapacity of communities. 

LOAFERS 

If men who take such pride in cheating their fellows, by 
doing as little work as possible, were, only for a change, to 
glory in doing more and better than was expected of them, 
what a difference, I have often thought, it would make in the 
feeling between employers and employees ! 

THE CRY OF 'WALES FOR THE WELSH* 

During my residence in Wales every English man or woman 
I saw has left in my memory an amiable reminder. The Bishop 



THOUGHTS FROM NOTE-BOOKS 531 

was an Englishman. Captain Thomas, the paternal, fair- 
minded, hospitable Guardian, was English. Her Majesty's 
Inspector, learned, polite, benevolent, was English. Bryn- 
bella's lessee, generous and kindly, was English. A chance 
visitor, a lady, who came to sketch in the neighbourhood, sit- 
ting on a camp-stool at an easel, was English. I shall never 
forget her. She painted small water-colours, and gave us all 
cakes, oranges, and apples, also sixpences to the bigger boys 
and twopences to the lesser! 

The best books, the beautiful stories, the novelettes, our 
geographies, spelling-books, histories, and school-readers, our 
Prayer-books and Bibles, were English. Yet the Welsh hated 
the English, and the reason for it I have never been able to 
discover, even to this day. 

We also detested the Paddys of the Square, because they 
were ragged, dirty, and quarrelsome, foul of speech, and noisy. 

We saw a few French, at least we were told they were 
French: they were too much despised to be hated. They 
belonged to that people who were beaten at Crecy, Agincourt, 
Blenheim, and Waterloo. 

I should therefore be false to myself if I stooped to say 
that the Welsh are the first people under the sun, and that 
Wales is the most beautiful country in the world. 

But, I am quite willing to admit that the Welsh are as good 
as any, and that they might surpass the majority of people 
if they tried, and that Wales contains within its limited area 
as beautiful scenes as any. The result of my observations is 
that in Nature the large part of humanity is on a pretty even 
plane, but that some respectable portion of it, thank Good- 
ness ! has risen to a higher altitude, owing to the advantages 
of civilisation. But there is a higher altitude still, which 
can only be reached by those nations who leave off brooding 
among traditions, and grasp firmly and gratefully the benefits 
offered to them by the progress of the age, and follow the 
precepts of the seers. 

* Wales for the Welsh ' is as senseless as ' Ireland for the 
Irish.' A common flag waves over these happy islands, unit- 
ing all in a brotherhood sealed by blood. Over what conti- 
nents has it not streamed aloft ? Who can count the victories 
inscribed on it? 



532 HENRY M. STANLEY 

NOTES ON AFRICAN TRAVEL, ETC. ' 

ON STARTING ON AN EXPEDITION 

Take an honest, open-eyed view of your surroundings, with 
as much faith as possible in the God above you, Who knows 
your heart better than you know it yourself; and consider 
that you cannot perish unless it is His will. But a man need 
not let his soul be oppressed by fears, religious, or otherwise, 
so long as his motives are righteous, his endeavours honest. 
Let him see also that his actions are just, and his mind free 
from sordid or selfish passions ; and that his whole aim is to be 
workmanlike and duteous. Thus he is as fit for Heaven as for 
the world. Then, bidding a glad farewell to the follies and 
vanities of civilised cities, step out with trustful hearts, souls 
open as the day, to meet whatever good or evil may be in 
store for us, perceiving, by many insignificant signs around, 
that whatever heavenly protection may be vouchsafed to us, 
it would soon be null and void unless we are watchful, alert, 
and wise, and unless we learn to do the proper thing at the 
right moment — for to this end was our intellect and educa- 
tion given us. 

Pious missionaries, even while engaged in worship, have 
been massacred at the altar. The white skin of the baptised 
European avails nothing against the arrow. Holy amulets and 
crosses are no protection against the spear. Faith, without 
awakened faculties and sharp exercise of them, is no shield at 
all against lawless violence ! 

WRITTEN IN AFRICA, IN 1 876, IN A NOTE-BOOK 

One of the first sweet and novel pleasures a man experiences 
in the wilds of Africa, is the almost perfect independence; the 
next thing is the indifference to all things earthly outside his 
camp ; and that, let people talk as they may, is one of the most 
exquisite, soul-lulling pleasures a mortal can enjoy. These 
two almost balance the pains inflicted by the climate. In 
Europe, care ages a man soon enough ; and it is well known 
that it was ' care which killed the cat' ! In Africa, the harass- 
ing, wearisome cares of the European are unknown. It is the 
fever which ages one. Such care as visits explorers is nothing 



THOUGHTS FROM NOTE-BOOKS 533 

to the trials of civilisation. In Africa, it is only a healthful 
exercise of the mind, without some little portion of which, it 
were really not worth while living. 

The other enjoyment is the freedom and independence of 
mind, which elevates one's thoughts to purer, higher atmos- 
pheres. It is not repressed by fear, nor depressed by ridicule 
and insults. It is not weighed down by sordid thoughts, or 
petty interests, but now preens itself, and soars free and 
unrestrained ; which liberty, to a vivid mind, imperceptibly 
changes the whole man after a while. 

No luxury in civilisation can be equal to the relief from 
the tyranny of custom. The wilds of a great city are better 
than the excruciating tyranny of a small village. The heart 
of Africa is infinitely preferable to the heart of the world's 
greatest city. If the way to it was smooth and safe, millions 
would fly to it. But London is better than Paris, and Paris is 
better than Berlin, and Berlin is better than St. Petersburg. 
The West invited thousands from the East of America to be 
relieved of the grasp of tyrannous custom. The Australians 
breathe freer after leaving England, and get bigger in body 
and larger in nature. 

I do not remember while here in Africa to have been pos- 
sessed of many ignoble thoughts ; but I do remember, very 
well, to have had, often and often, very lofty ideas concerning 
the regeneration, civilisation, and redemption of Africa, and 
the benefiting of England through her trade and commerce ; 
besides other possible and impossible objects. ' If one had only 
the means, such and such things would be possible of realisa- 
tion' ! I am continually thinking thus, and I do not doubt they 
formed principally the dream-life in which Livingstone passed 
almost all his leisure hours. 

Another enduring pleasure is that which is derived from 
exploration of new, unvisited, and undescribed regions ; for, 
daily, it forms part of my enjoyment, especially while on the 
march. Each eminence is eagerly climbed in the hope of view- 
ing new prospects, each forest is traversed with a strong idea 
prevailing that at the other end some grand feature of nature 
may be revealed ; the morrow's journey is longed for, in the 
hope that something new may be discovered. Then there are 
the strange and amusing scenes of camp-life in a savage land ; 



534 HENRY M. STANLEY 

the visits of the natives, whose peculiar customs or dress, and 
whose remarks on strangers, seldom fail to be entertaining; 
and, best of all, there is the strong internal satisfaction one 
feels at the end of each day's labours, and the proud thought 
that something new has been obtained for general informa- 
tion, and that good will come of it. Lastly, there is the plea- 
sure of hunting the large, noble game of Africa ; that truest of 
sports, where you hunt for food and of necessity; to track the 
elephant, rhinoceros, buffalo, the eland, and other magnificent 
animals of the antelope species. 

It is a keen, delightful feeling which animates the mind of 
the African hunter, as he leaves his camp full of people, and 
plunges into the unexplored solitudes, accompanied by only 
one or two men, in search of game, ignorant of the adventures 
which lie before him ; but with swift pulse, braced nerves, and 
elated heart, he is ready to try his luck against even the most 
formidable. The success of the hunt enhances his pleasure, 
and, on his return to camp, he meets his people, who are all 
agape with admiration of his prowess, and profuse in thanks 
for the gift of animal food. 

If the traveller's mind is so happily constituted that, in the 
pursuit of duty, he can also command enjoyment in its pur- 
suit, each day brings its round of single, happy pleasures, often 
out-balancing the drawbacks of travel in savage Africa. 

* For such, the rivers dash their foaming tides, 
The mountain swells, the dale subsides ; 
E'en thriftless furze detains their wandering sight. 
And the rough, barren rocks grow pregnant with delight.* 

If he is a true lover of wild Nature, where can he view her 
under so many aspects as in the centre of Africa ? Where is 
she so shy, so retired, mysterious, fantastic, and savage as in 
Africa ? Where are her charms so strong, her moods so strange, 
as in Africa ? 

One time she appears so stale, flat, and tedious, that the very 
memory of the scene sickens and disgusts ; another time she 
covers her prospects with such a mysterious veil, that I suf- 
fered from protracted fits of melancholy, and depression of 
spirits, to such a degree I was glad to turn to meditations on 
^he words of the fourteenth chapter of Job. It is when Africa 



THOUGHTS FROM NOTE-BOOKS 535 

presents vast desolate wastes, without grandeur, beauty, or 
sublimity, when even animated life appears quite extinct, 
then it is that the traveller from long contemplating such 
scenes is liable to become seriously afflicted with sullen, 
savage humour, as though in accordance with what he 
beholds. 

At another time, Nature in Africa exposes a fair, fresh face 
to the light of heaven, a very queen in glory, whose grassy 
dress exhibits its shimmers as it is gently blown by the breeze ; 
soft, swelling hills, and hollows all green with luxuriant leaf- 
age ; wild flowers and blooming shrubs perfume the air, and 
beautiful outlines of hills grace the extensive prospect. Oh ! 
at such times I forgot all my toils and privations, I seemed 
re-created ; the mere view around me would send fresh vigour 
through my nerves. 

In her grand and sublime moods, Nature often appears in 
Africa, her crown, wreathed in verdure, lifted sheer up to the 
white clouds, the flanks of her hills descending to the verge 
of her mighty lakes, vast and impenetrable forests spreading 
for unending miles. These are the traveller's reward ; there- 
fore his life in this little-known continent need not be intoler- 
able ; it is not merely a life of toil and danger ; though constant 
travel may be fatiguing, thirst oppressive, heat a drawback, 
and the ever-recurring fever a great evil, he may also find 
much that is pleasant. If he is fortunate in his travels, he will 
not regret having undertaken his journey, but will always 
look back upon it, as I do, as a pleasant period of a useful 
life ; for it will have considerably enlightened and matured 
him, and renewed his love for his own race, his own land, 
and the institutions of his country, thus preparing him for 
the cultivation and enjoyment of more perfect happiness 
at home. 

AFTER ONE OF HIS EXPEDITIONS 

Stanley writes : * When a man returns home and finds for 
the moment nothing to struggle against, the vast resolve, 
which has sustained him through a long and difficult enter- 
prise, dies away, burning as it sinks in the heart; and thus 
the greatest successes are often accompanied by a peculiar 
melancholy.' 



536 HENRY M. STANLEY 

ON THE GOVERNMENT OF THE CONGO 

1896. The King of the Belgians has often desired me to go 
back to the Congo ; but to go back, would be to see mistakes 
consummated, to be tortured daily by seeing the effects of an 
erring and ignorant policy. I would be tempted to re-con- 
stitute a great part of the governmental machine, and this 
would be to disturb a moral malaria injurious to the re-or- 
ganiser. We have become used to call vast, deep layers of 
filth, ' Augean stables ' : what shall we call years of stupid 
government, mischievous encroachment on the executive, 
years of unnecessary, unqualified officers, years of cumber- 
some administration, years of neglect at every station, years 
of confusion and waste in every office? These evils have 
become habitual, and to remove them would entail much 
worry and dislike, to hear of them would set my nerves on 
edge, and cause illness. 

ON THE VALUE OF THE CONGO AND BRITISH EAST AFRICA 

English legislators imagine they exhibit their wisdom by 
challenging travellers to describe the value of the countries 
to which they seek to draw attention. Hasty and preliminary 
exploration of the topographers cannot be expected to dis- 
cover all the resources of a country. For sixty years the Eng- 
lish were in possession of South Africa before either diamonds 
or gold were found. Nay, England herself was thought by the 
Romans to produce nothing but sloes! New Zealand was 
supposed to be destitute of anything but timber. Australia 
has been frequently contemptuously alluded to. 

The Congo possesses splendid inland navigation, abundance 
of copper, nitre, gold, palm oil, nuts, copal, rubber, ivory, 
fibre for rope and paper, excellent grasses for matting, nets, 
and fishing-lines, timber for furniture and ship-building. All 
this could have belonged to Great Britain, but was refused. 
Alas! 

The Duke of Wellington replied to the New Zealand Asso- 
ciation, in 1838, that Great Britain had sufficient colonies, 
even though New Zealand might become a jewel in England's 
colonial crown ! 



THOUGHTS FROM NOTE-BOOKS 537 

ON GENERAL GORDON. 1 892 

I have often wondered at Gordon ; in his place I should have 
acted differently. 

It was optional with Gordon to live or die ; he preferred 
to die ; I should have lived, if only to get the better of the 
Mahdi. 

With joy of striving, and fierce delight of thwarting, I 
should have dogged and harassed the Mahdi, like Nemesis, 
until I had him down. 

I maintain that to live is harder and nobler than to die ; to 
bear life's burdens, suffer its sorrows, endure its agonies, is 
the greater heroism. 

The relief of Khartoum, that is to say, removing the garri- 
son and those anxious to leave, was at first, comparatively 
speaking, an easy task. I should have commenced by render- 
ing my position impregnable, by building triple fortifications 
inside Khartoum, abutting on the Nile, with boats and steam- 
ers ever ready. No Mahdist should have got at me or my 
garrison! I should then have commanded all those civilians 
desirous of submitting to the Mahdi to leave Khartoum; 
people do not realise how ready, nay eager, they were to do so. 
Gordon said to an interviewer, before starting, 'The moment 
it is known we have given up the game, every man will be 
only too eager to go over to the Mahdi ; all men worship the 
Rising Sun.' 

But I should never have stuck to Khartoum, I would have 
departed with my garrison to safer lands by the Upper White 
Nile. It would not have been difficult to get to Berber, if 
Gordon had started without delay, in fact, as soon as he had 
fortified himself at Khartoum. My withdrawal would have 
been to attack the better, * leaving go of the leg, to fly at the 
throat*; but if, for some reason, I had decided to stay, my 
fortified citadel would have held the Mahdists at bay till 
help came. There would have been no danger of starvation, 
as I should have turned all undesirables out. Then, as a last 
resource, there was the Nile. 

My one idea would have been to carry out what I had 
undertaken to do, without any outside help. If I had gone 
to Khartoum to rescue the garrison, the garrison would have 



538 HENRY M. STANLEY 

been rescued ! When Gordon started, this is what he under'- 
took to do ; there was no thought, or question, of sending a 
rescue expedition. It was failure all round — Gordon failed 
first, then Gladstone and the Government. 

But I have refrained from all public expression of opinion, 
because it is not permitted in England to criticise Gordon; 
and, besides, he was a true hero, and he died nobly. That 
silences one : nevertheless, I hold that Gordon need not have 
died! 



HENRY MORTON STANLEY 

Large shall his name be writ, with that strong line, 
Of heroes, martyrs, soldiers, saints, who gave 
Their lives to chart the waste, and free the slave, 

In the dim Continent where his beacons shine. 

Rightly they call him Breaker of the Path, 
Who was no cloistered spirit, remote and sage, 
But a swift swordsman of our wrestling age, 

Warm in his love, and sudden in his wrath. 

How many a weary league beneath the Sun 
The tireless foot had traced, that lies so still. 
Now sinks the craftsman's hand, the sovereign will; 

Now sleeps the unsleeping brain, the day's work dona 

Muffle the drums and let the death-notes roll, 
One of the mightier dead is with us here ; 
Honour the vanward's Chief, the Pioneer, 

Do fitting reverence to a warrior soul. 

But far away his monument shall be. 
In the wide lands he opened to the light. 
By the dark Forest of the tropic night, 

And his great River winding to the Sea. 

Sidney Low, 

May 13, 1904. 



BOOKS WRITTEN BY HENRY M. STANLEY 

How I Found Livingstone. With maps and illustrations. New York : 
Charles Scribner's Sons. 

My Kalulu: Prince, King, and Slave. Illustrated. New York: 
Charles Scribner's Sons. 

Coomassie and Magdala: the British Campaign in Africa. New 
York : Harper and Brothers. 

Through the Dark Continent. Illustrated. 2 vols. New York: 
Harper and Brothers. 

The Congo and the Founding of its Free State. 2 vols. With maps 
and Illustrations. New York : Harper and Brothers. 

In Darkest Africa : the Quest, Rescue, and Retreat of Emin, Gov- 
ernor of Equatoria. With maps and illustrations. 2 vols. New 
York : Charles Scribner's Sons. 

My Dark Companions and their Strange Stories. Illustrated. 
New York : Charles Scribner's Sons. 

Slavery and the Slave Trade in Africa. Illustrated. New York: 
Harper and Brothers. 

My Early Travels and Adventures in America and Asia. With 
portraits. 2 vols. New York : Charles Scribner's Sons. 

Through South Africa: a Visit to Rhodesia, the Transvaal, Cape 
Colony, and Natal. With maps and illustrations. New York: 
Charles Scribner's Sons. 

•.* AH the above works were published in England by Messrs. Sampson Low, 
Marston & Co. 



INDEX 



Abnizzi, Duke of the, ascends the Moun- 
tains of the Moon, 371. 

Abyssinian expedition, 227-230. 

Aden, Stanley at, 237, 238. 

Africa, the Abyssinian expedition, 227- 
230 ; the finding of Livingstone, 251-284 ; 
Coomassie, 2S5-295 ; Stanley's expedi- 
tion through, 296-332; founding the 
Congo State, 333-352 ; the rescue of 
Emin, 353-391 ; a review of Stanley's 
work in, 392-408; maps of, 392, 393; 
South, 482-500; on starting on an expe- 
dition into, 532 ; on the pleasure of trav- 
elling in, 532-535 ; on returning from an 
expedition in, 535. 

Ague, 155, 156. 

Albert Edward Nyanza, the, 370, 371. 

Albert Nyanza, the, 359. 

Allen, William, 468. 

Altschul, Mr., 151-161. 

America, Stanley's first visit to, 81-215; 
later visits to, 220-227, 291, 425-428. 

Anderson, Captain, 345. 

Anderson, Colonel Finlay, 228, 237. 

Arkansas, population of, 156; spirit pre- 
vailing in, 156, 157. 

Arnold, Sir Edwin, thoughts on his Light 
of the Worlds 521. 

Ashantees, the, 291-295. 

Ashburton, Lady, 423. 

Ashmead-Bartlett, Mr., 480. 

Auckland, Stanley visits, 435, 436. 

Australia, Stanley visits, 434, 435. 

Autobiography, Stanley begins, 465, 

Baker, Mr., the American, 215. 

Baker, Sir Samuel White, death of, 462 ; 

Stanley's estimate of, 462, 463. 
Balfour, Dr. Andrew, 407. 
Balfour, Arthur, 473, 474. 
Balfour, Gerald, 474. 
Barker, Frederick, 298, 300, 317. 
Barttelot, Major, 354, 360, 364. 
Beauregard, General P. G. T., 185, 187 n., 

445- 



Bedford, Grammar School at, 456. 

Belgium, in Africa. See Leopold. 

Belmont, battle of, 175. 

Bennett, J. G., Stanley's first interview 
with, 228 ; commissions Stanley to 
search for Livingstone, 245 ; agrees to 
join in sending Stanley to explore Af- 
rica, 298. 

Bethell, Commander, 478. 

Bible, the, the elder Mr. Stanley's views of, 
136 ; Stanley reads, in the wilds of Africa, 
252-255. 

Binnie, Mr., engineer, 344, 345. 

Bismarck summons a conference on the 
Congo State, 338, 339. 

Bonny, William, 363, 364. • 

Books, Stanley's, in America, 97, 127; 
later read by Stanley, 237, 240, 429, 432, 

433» 458. 459. 463, 475. 508- 
Bowles, ' Tommy,' 478, 479. 
Braconnier, 346, 347. 
Brassey, Lord, 501. 
Brazza, M. de, 336. 
Bruce, A. L., urges Stanley to become a 

candidate for Parliament, 439 ; death 

of, 459; Stanley's affection for, 459, 

460. 
Bryce, James, 478. 
Brynford, 41. 
Buell, General D. C, on the battle of Shi- 

loh, 203 n. 
Burdett-Coutts, the Baroness and Mr., 

418. 
Burgevine, General, 166. 
Burton, Sir Richard F., 423, 424. 

Campbell-Bannerman, 504. 

Camperio, Captain, 424. 

Canterbury, 432, 433. 

Carnarvon, Stanley's reception at, 431. 

Carnival, the, at Odessa, 247. 

Casati, 424. 

Caucasus, Stanley in the, 245. 

Cave City, in camp at, 179-185. 

Chamberlain, the Rt. Hon. Joseph, on 



544 



INDEX 



the slave-trade in Africa, 344 n.; as a 
debater, 479 ; on South Africa, 495 ; as a 
speaker, 503. 

Christopherson, Albert, 345. 

Civil War in America, events preceding, 
161-166; Stanley's part in, 167-221 ; why 
men enlisted for, 168 ; Northern view of 
cause of, 202. 

Cleveland, President, his Venezuelan mes- 
sage, 482. 

Chvyd, Vale of, 51. 

Coleman, Mr., 159. 

Columbus, Ohio, the Gibraltar of the Mis- 
sissippi, 175. 

Congo, the, traced by Stanley, 318-330; 
opened up, 333-352. 

Congo and the Founding of its Free State, 

334- 

Congo State, founding the, 333-352, 399, 
400 ; recognised by the civilised powers, 
338 ; Stanley on the government of, 
536 ; Stanley on the value of, 536. 

Cook, W. H., 222-224. 

Coomassie, 229, 292, 293. 

Crete, 230. 

Cromer, 453. 

Cronin, Mr., 1 51-153. 

Cypress Grove, 1 51-166. 

Dalziell, Mr,, 476. 

Darkest Africa, In, 411, 422. 

Davis, Richard Harding, 508. 

Death, thoughts on the fear of, 522, 523. 

Degrees conferred on Stanley, 424, 525. 

Denbigh, 219. 

Denbigh Castle, 4-8. 

' Dido,' the captain of the, 114. 

Dilke, Sir Charles, 473, 474, 477. 

Dillon, John, 474, 476. 

Dixie Greys, the, 165, 166. 

Donnelly, Ignatius, Casar's Column, 433. 

Douglas, Camp, 205-214. 

East African Company, 446-449. 

East Anglia, 450. 

Education, thoughts on, 523-525. 

Eisteddfod, the, 14, 16, 430, 434. 

Ellison, Mr., 106, 112. 

Emin Pasha, calls for help, 353 ; as de- 
scribed by Dr. Felkin, 354; discovered, 
361 ; Stanley's impression of, 362 ; a 
prisoner, 368 ; deceived by his officers. 



368 ; goes with Stanley to the coast, 
370-372 ; has a fall from a balcony, 372 ; 
engages himself to the Germans, 373, 
374; death of, 375. 
England, and Coomassie, 285-295 ; back- 
wardness of, in founding the Congo 
State, 22,3y 3 4) 338, 406 ; belittles Stan- 
ley's work, 400 ; in East Africa, 422 ; and 
South Africa, 487-500 ; thoughts on re- 
turning to, 528; changes in, in forty years, 

529. 53°- 
Evangelides, Christo, 230-236. 

Felkin, Dr. R. W., his picture of Emin, 

353. 354- 
Fetish, the, and Ngalyema, 339-342. 
Ffynnon Beuno, 42-47, 51-55. 
Fisher, Fort, Stanley writes account of 

attack on, 220, 221. 
Flamini, Fran9ois, 345. 
Foraging, in the American Civil War, 180. 
Francis, James, 12-16, 32-34. 
Furze Hill, 506-514. 

Galton, Sir Francis, 286, 287. 

Garstin, Sir WilUam, on the importance of 
Stanley's discoveries, 404, 405. 

Genealogy, 3. 

Generalship, American, fault of, 178. 

Germany, in East Africa, 422. 

Ghost stories, 8, 9. 

Gladstone, W. E., Stanley's interview with, 
419-421 ; as a speaker, 479, 480. 

Goff, Mr., 65. 

Gordon, General, Stanley's view of char- 
acter of, 338, 526; massacre of, 353; 
Stanley on death of, 396, 397, 537, 538. 

Goree, Dr. and Dan, 160, 162, 165, 169, 
170, 180. 

Grant, Colonel J. A., death of, 437, 438. 

Grant, U. S., on the battle of Shiloh, 203; 
Stanley's opinion of, 445. 

Greene, Conyngham, 494. 

Grey, Sir George, letter of, on the Emin 
Relief Expedition, 378, 379 ; events of 
his life, 379 ; entertains Stanley at Auck- 
land, 435 ; Stanley's opinion of, 436; let- 
ter of, to Stanley, 436, 437 ; letter of, to 
Mrs. Stanley on Stanley's defeat in the 
Parliament election, 442, 443 ; on place 
of Stanley's burial, 515, 516. 

Gully, William Court, 469-472. 



INDEX 



545 



Haldane, Mr., 474. 

Hancock, General, expedition of, against 
the Kiowas and Comanches, 225-227. 

Happiness, thoughts on, 237, 238. 

Harcourt, Sir William, 473. 

Hardinge, Captain David, 67. 

Harman, Rev. Dr., 246. 

Harry, boy on board the ' Windermere,' 
70-72, 78, 79, 82-84. 

Hawthorn, Colonel A. T., 168. 

Healy, Tim, 475, 477. 

Heaton, Dick (Alice), 107-111. 

Henderson, Senator, 226, 227. 

Hills-Johnes, Sir James and Lady, hosts 
to Stanley, 464. 

Hindman, General T. C, 203, 204. 

Holywell, John, 28. 

Houldsworth, Sir William, 476. 

House of Commons, Stanley becomes can- 
didate for, but is defeated, 439 ; becomes 
a second time candidate, and is elected, 
439-445, 466 ; Stanley's impressions of, 
467-481, 501-505. 

Hubbard, Mr., 158, 161. 

Illusions, thoughts on, 523. 
Indians, American, the, 225-227. 
Ingham, Major, Stanley's meeting with, 

142; takes Stanley home with him, 146; 

life on his plantation, 146-150. 
Ingham, Mrs. Annie, death of, 445. 
Ingham, C. E., death of, 463. 
International African Association, 334- 

338. 
Isangila, 335. 

James, Lord, of Hereford, 483. 

Jameson, Dr., his invasion of the Trans- 
vaal, 482, 483; 

Jameson, Mr., 354. 

Jephson, Mounteney, joins Stanley's ex- 
pedition for the rescue of Emin, 354 ; 
sent by Stanley to search for Emin, 
360, 361 ; a prisoner, 368 ; Stanley's char- 
acterisation of, 382 ; sufferings of, 387 ; 
carries succour to Nelson, 390 ; accom- 
panies Stanley to Ostend, 434; Stanley 
in last sickness talks of, 515. 

Jerusalem, Stanley at, 245. * 

Johnston, General A. S., 185, 199. 

Journalism, Stanley's career in, 220-250, 
291-295. 



Kennicy, Mr., 89, 91, loi, 102. 
Khartoum, massacre of Gordon's forces at, 
353 ; how Stanley would have acted at, 

537- 
Kimber, Mr., 469, 470. 
Kitchen, J. D., 101-106, 121. 
Kruger, President, Stanley's description 

of, 489-499 ; his ultimatum, 503, 504. 
Kumishah, 248. 

Ladysmith, Stanley on its position as a 
camp, 499, 500. 

Learning, thoughts on, 525. 

Lee, Mr., nephew of General Lee, 165, 169. 

Lee, General Robert E., Stanley's opinion 
of, 445. 

Leopold, Kling, of Belgium, interested in 
the opening up of Africa, 334, 338 ; dis- 
cusses African affairs with Stanley, 412- 
417 ; concludes treaty with English Gov- 
ernment, 418; Stanley the guest of, at 
Ostend, 424 ; invites Stanley to Ostend, 

434- 

Leopoldville, 336. 

Liverpool, Stanley's life at, 56-68. 

Livingstone, Stanley goes to Aden to meet, 
237 ; Stanley is commissioned to search 
for, 245 ; reported character of, 250 ; 
Stanley in search of, 251-263; found, 
263-267 ; why he did not return of his 
own accord, 267-272 ; leaves Ujiji, 273 ; 
character of, 273-278, 281-284, 5^6; 
Stanley's parting from, 279, 280 ; death 
of, 280 ; feelings of Stanley at news of 
his death, 295, 296; letters of, to Sir 
George Grey, 435. 

Llys, the, 40. 

Loafers, thoughts on, 530. 

Long Hart, 72. 

Low, Sidney, his article on Stanley's Afri- 
can explorations, 392-404 ; poem of, 
on Stanley, 539. 

Lowell, J. R., Letters of, 458, 459, 461. 

Lualaba, the, 318-330. See Congo. 

Lyall, Sir Alfred, Stanley presides at lec- 
ture of, 501. 

Lyons, Colonel, 168. 

Machiavelli, 463, 464, 
Mackay, A. M., 406. 

Mackinnon, Sir William, patronises the 
Emin Relief Expedition, 354 ; and the 



546 



INDEX 



East African Company, 446-449 ; death 

and funeral of, 446, 449 ; remarks on, 

459. 460. 
Malone, Tom, 169, i8c. 
Mason, Penny, 165, 169. 
Manyanga, 335. 
Marks, Mr., 4S9, 494. 
Matabele War, 454, 455. 
McKenna, Mr., 478. 
Melchet Court, 423, 428. 
Milligan, Colonel James A., 205. 
Milner, Sir Alfred, on South Africa, 495. 
Milton, John, 526. 

Mind and soul, thoughts on, 521, 522. 
Mirambo, 257, 258. 
Mississippi River, 115-117, 125. 
Moon, Mountains of the, 371. 
Morris, Edward Joy, 223, 245. 
Morris, Maria, aunt of Stanley, 55, 57, 

62-68. 
Morris, Tom, uncle of Stanley, 58-68. 
Mose, boyhood friend of Stanley, 34-40. 
Mtesa, 311-313, 317, 31S, 405- 
Murchison, Sir Roderick, 267, 282. 
My Early Travels and Adventures, 225, 

245- 
Myers, F. W. H., quoted, 2S9. 

Napier, Sir Robert, 229. 

National School at Brynford, 44, 47-51. 

Nelson, mate on board the ' Winder- 
. mere,' 70, 75, 76, 80. 

Nelson, Captain, 354, 383, 387, 390. 

New Orleans, Stanley's life at, 81-125; 
later visit to, 426, 427. 

New York, Stanley's impressions of, 425. 

New York Herald, Stanley becomes cor- 
respondent of, 228-230. 

New Zealand, Stanley visits, 434-437. 

Newspapers, Stanley reads, in the wilds 
of Africa, 252-255 ; the scavenger- 
beetles of, 288 ; thoughts on reading the, 

527- 
Ngalyema and the fetish, 339-342. 
Nile, the, Stanley's discoveries regarding 

the sources of, 301, 371, 405. 
Norwich, 452. 

O'Connor, T. P. (' Tay-Pay '), 475, 476. 
Odessa, Stanley at, 247. 
O'Kelly, James J., 468, 469, 471, 472. 
Owen, Hicks, 18. 



Owen, Mary, aunt of Stanley, 42-57, 207, 

208. 
Owen, Moses, 41-51. 

Parke, Surgeon, joins the expedition for 
the rescue of Emin, 354; on the march, 
360, 373; his journal of the expedition, 
378, 436, 437 ; Stanley's opinion of, 381, 
382, 390 ; accompanies Stanley to Mel- 
chet Court, 423 ; death of, 459, 460. 

Parker,- Henry, 187, 188, 193. 

Parkinson, John, 58. 

Parkinson, Mary, 58. 

Parliament. See House of Commons. 

Parry, Moses, grandfather of Stanley, 
6-8. 

Pasargadas, ruins of, 248. 

Peace Commission to the Indians, 225- 
227. 

Persepolis, 249. 

Phillpots, Mr., 458. 

Pickersgill, Mr., 476. 

Pigmies, 365-367. 

Platte River, 222. 

Pocock, Francis and Edward, 298, 300, 
301, 321, 329. 

Portugal, in Africa, 338. 

Prayer, thoughts on the efficacy of, 518- 
520. 

Price, Dick, 10. 

Price, Richard and Jenny, S-IO. 

Price, Sarah, 8-10. 

Provincialism, 155. 

Rawlinson, Sir Henry, 286, 289. 
Reading, Mr. Stanley the elder instructs 

Stanley in, 127. 
Recreation, real, thoughts on, 525, 526. 
Redmond, John, 474. 
Religion, thoughts on, 517-519. 
Religious convictions, of Stanley when a 

boy, 23-28 ; of the elder Mr. Stanley, 

133-137- 
Religious education, thoughts on, 521. 
Reviews and reviewers, thoughts on, 526^ 

527. 
Rhodes, Cecil, 455. 
Rhuddlan Eisteddfod, 14, 16. 
Rithardson, Mr., 89-121. 
Roberts, Lord, 464. 
Roberts, Willie, 22, 23. 
Robertson, Mr., 472, 473. 



INDEX 



547 



Robinson, Rev. Joseph A., refuses to 
allow Stanley to be buried in Westmin- 
ster Abbey, 515. 

Rowlands, John, Stanley's real name. See 
Stanley, Henry Morton. 

Rowlands, John, Stanley's grandfather, 
38-40. 

Runciman, Mr., 523 n. 

Ruwenzori Mountains. See Moon, Moun- 
tains of the. 

St. Asaph Union Workhouse, 10-34. 

St. Louis, 115, 116. 

SaHsbury, Lord, accuses Stanley of having 
interests in Africa, 408 ; as an orator, 
445, 446, 465. 

Sandf ord. General, 338. 

Saragossa, fighting at, 241-243. 

Saunderson, Colonel, 489. 

Scheabeddin, quoted, 371. 

Schnitzer, Edouard. See Emin Pasha. 

Seton-Karr, Mr., 474. 

Sherman, General W. T., 226, 227, 426. 

Shiloh, 186-204. 

Shipman, Mr., 205, 206, 212, 213. 

Short, Bishop Vowler, 17, 30. 

Slate, James M., 169, 180, 204. 

Slave-trade in Africa, 344, 407, 413, 419- 
422, 457. 

Smalley, Mr., 17. 

Smith, Parker, 478, 480. 

Smith, Captain S. G., 165, 168, 188, 189. 

Socialism, thoughts on, 530. 

Soldiering, 167-215. 

Solomon's Throne, 248. 

Soul and mind, thoughts on, 521, 522. 

Spain, Stanley in, 240-244. 

Speake, James, 89, 102-105, 121. 

Speake, Mrs., 105, 106. 

Speke, Mr., 435, 462. 

Stairs, Lieutenant, 354, 360, 381, 390. 

Stanlej', Denzil, Stanley's son, 483, 485, 
486. 

Stanley, Henry Morton, his progenitors, 
3, 4 ; dawn of consciousness, 4 ; earliest 
recollections, 4-7 ; his grandfather, 7, 8 ; 
at the Prices', 8-10; taken to the Work- 
house, 10; his first flogging, 13, 14; his 
second memorable whipping, 14, 15 ; 
life at the school, 16-22 ; his feelings at 
the death of Willie Roberts, 22, 23 ; his 
religious convictions, 23-28 ; his meet- 



ing with his mother, 28, 29 ; the most 
advanced pupil, 30 ; his personal ap- 
pearance, 30 ; acts as deputy over the 
school, 31 ; his struggle with Francis 
and flight from the Workhouse, 32-34 ; 
adventures after leaving the Workhouse, 
35-37 ; visits Denbigh and learns of his 
relatives, 37-40 ; calls on his grand- 
father, John Rowlands, 40 ; engaged as 
pupil -teacher, 41 ; visits his aunt, Mary 
Owen, 42-47 ; at the National School at 
Brynford, 47-51 ; returns to Ffynnon 
Beuno, 51 ; life at Ffynnon Beuno, 51- 
55; leaves Ffynnon Beuno, 55 ; sadness 
at departure, 56 ; arrival at Liverpool, 
56-59 ; visits Mr. Winter, 60 ; employed 
at a haberdasher's, 62 ; about the 
docks, 64 ; employed at a butcher's, 65 ; 
ships as cabin-boy, 67 ; sails for New 
Orleans, 68 ; on board the ' Winder- 
mere,' 69-81. 

Arrival at New Orleans, 81 ; first 
night in New Orleans, 82-84 i leaves 
the ' Windermere,' 84, 85 ; seeks work 
in New Orleans, 86-89 ! ^^st meeting 
with Mr. Stanley the elder, 87-90 ; taken 
on trial, 89 ; in his new position, 90-93; 
permanently engaged, 93 ; his new feel- 
ing of independence, 94-96 ; his affection 
for New Orleans, 96 ; on the moral cour- 
age to say ' No,' 96 ; books read at this 
period, 97, 98; takes breakfast with 
Mr. Stanley, 98-100; his acquaintance 
with the Stanleys, 100, loi ; his salary 
increased, loi ; his discovery of a theft 
in the business house, 102-104 ; Mr. 
Stanley's gift of books to, 105 ; watches 
the body of Mr. Speake, 105, 106; ad- 
venture with Dick (Alice) Heaton, 107- 
III ; discharged from Ellison and Mc- 
Millan's, 106 ; his account of the death 
of Mrs. Stanley, 111-113; attends the 
captain of the 'Dido,' 114; leaves 
New Orleans, 115; goes to St. Louis, 
115; returns to New Orleans, 11 6-1 18 ; 
taken under the charge of Mr. Stanley 
and given his name, 118-125; travels 
with Mr. Stanley, 125; his mental ac- 
quisitiveness and memory, 126; his 
judgement a thing of growth, 126; 
studies and reads with Mr. Stanley, 127 ; 
profits by the moral instruction of Mr. 



548 



INDEX 



Stanley, 128-133, 137-139; thereligious 
views taught him by Mr. Stanley, 133- 
137; further education at the hands of 
Mr. Stanley, 140 ; his personal appear- 
ance, 140; his last parting with Mr. 
Stanley, 142-145; receives aletterfrom 
Mr. Stanley, 145, 146; on Major Ing- 
ham's plantation, 146-150; at Mr. 
Waring's, 150; walks to the Arkansas 
River, 150, 151 ; at Mr. Altschul's store, 
151-161 ; learns of the death of Mr. 
Stanley, 161 ; hears of events preceding 
the Civil War, 161-166. 

Enlists, 166 ; his enlistment a blunder, 
167; his mess, 169; on the march, 171- 
175; witnesses the battle of Belmont, 
175; campaigning, 175-179; in camp 
at Cave City, 179; foraging, 179-185; 
transferred to Corinth, 185 ; at the battle 
of Shiloh, 186-203; made a prisoner, 
200 ; taken to the rear, 200-203 ! P"^" 
oner of war, 205-214; vision of Aunt 
Mary, 207, 208 ; enrolled in the U. S. 
Service, 214; has the prison disease 
and is discharged, 214, 219; events fol- 
lowing his discharge, 214, 215, 219. 

Arrives at Liverpool, 219; visits his 
mother's house and his reception, 219; 
returns to America and joins the mer- 
chant service, 220 ; enlists in United 
States Navy and is ship's writer, 220 ; 
writes account of attack on Fort Fisher, 
220, 221 ; wanders about America, 221 ; 
stage and press, 221, 222; floats down 
the Platte River, 222 ; goes to Asia 
(Stanley-Cook exploration), 223, 224 ; 
joins General Hancock's expedition 
against the Indians, and accompanies 
the Peace Commission to the Indians 
as correspondent, 225-227 ; his earn- 
ings, 227 ; becomes correspondent of 
the New York Herald, 228 ; reports the 
Abyssinian expedition, 229, 230 ; goes 
to Crete, 230 ; the Virginia episode at 
Island of Syra, 230-236 ; his further 
travels, 237 ; goes to Aden to meet 
Livingstone, 237 ; his thoughts on hap- 
piness, 237, 238; on slanderous gossip, 
239 ; on change from boy to man, 240 ; 
in Spain, 240-244 ; his application to 
duty, 243, 244. 

Is commissioned by Mr. Bennett to 



search for Livingstone, 245; at the open 
ing of the Suez Canal, 245 ; in Egypv 
at Jerusalem, at Constantinople, and ii 
the Caucasus, 245, 246 ; on Rev. Dr. 
Harman, 246 ; sees the Carnival at 
Odessa, 247 ; in the East, 247-249 ; ar- 
rives at Zanzibar, 250 ; starts from 
Zanzibar in search of Livingstone, 251, 
252 ; reads Bible and newspapers in 
wilds of Africa, 252-255; his feeling of 
tranquillity when in Africa, 255 ; his 
ideas on being good-tempered in Africa, 
256; in Ugogo, 256; in Unyanyembe, 
257, 258 ; hears of a grey-bearded man, 
259; pays heavy tribute to the natives, 
259, 260; sees Lake Tanganyika, 261, 
262 ; arrives at Ujiji, 262 ; finds Living- 
stone, 263-267 ; tells why Livingstone 
did not return of his own accord, 267- 
272; leaves Ujiji, 273 ; his observations 
on Livingstone's character, 273-278, 
281-284; his parting from Livingstone, 
279, 280 ; his return home, 286. 

Speaks before societies, 286, 287 ; 
hostility to, 286-289 ; received by Queen 
Victoria, 289-291 ; lectures in England 
and America, 291 ; accompanies cam- 
paign against the Ashantees, 291-295 ; 
on Lord Wolseley, 294; Lord Wolseley 
on, 294 ; feelings at news of death of 
Livingstone, 295, 296 ; conception of 
plan to explore Africa, 295-298. 

Makes preparations in Zanzibar, 298, 
299 ; proceeds inland, 299-301 ; his 
camp attacked, 302-304 ; arrives at the 
Victoria Nyanza, 305 ; circumnavigates 
the Victoria Nyanza and Lake Tan- 
ganyika, 305-319 ; traces the Lualaba 
(Congo), 318-330; aims to introduce 
civilisation into Africa, 333, 334 ; his 
work of opening up the Congo, 335-339 ; 
and Ngalyema, 339-342 ; his manner of 
dealing with the natives, 342-346; and 
his subordinates, 344-351 ; his answer 
to those who regarded him as ' hard,' 
346-351; his virility of purpose, 351; 
called ' Breaker of Rocks,' 352. 

Undertakes to lead the Emin Relief 
Expedition, 354 ; starts on the expedi- 
tion, 355; forms Advance Column, 355, 
356; on the march, 356-359; reaches 
the Albert Nyanza, 359 ; constructs a 



INDEX 



549 



fort at Ibwiri, 360; discovers Emin, 
361 ; his impression of Emin, 362 ; goes 
in search of the Rear-Column, 362 ; his 
discovery of the Rear-Column, 363, 364 ; 
returns to Fort Bodo, 364-367 ; returns 
to the Albert Nyanza, 367 ; commences 
homeward journey, 370; discovers the 
Albert Edward Nyanza, 370, 371 ; sees 
the Mountains of the Moon, 371 ; 
reaches the Indian Ocean, 372 ; enlight- 
ened as to the true character of Emin, 
373, 374; results of his expedition, 375 ; 
his letter on the conduct of Englishmen 
in Africa, 376, 377; Sir George Grey's 
letter on his work on the Relief Expedi- 
tion, 378, 379. 

Expects implicit obedience from his 
subordinates, 380; his descriptions of 
his subordinates, 381-383; lives alone 
while in Africa, 383, 384, 386 ; on the 
white man in Africa, 384, 385 ; accused 
of being 'hard,' 385; his manner of 
life while in Africa, 386-388 ; his 
thoughts while in Africa, 388, 389 ; 
Low's estimate of his work in Africa, 
392-404 ; on his intellectual power, 
396, 397 ; a leader of men, 397 ; on the 
criticisms of his methods, 398 ; his 
character, 399, 402, 403 ; his religious 
beliefs, 399 ; as an administrator and 
organiser, 399, 400 ; effects on his health 
of the Emin Expedition, 401 ; in the 
last fourteen years of his life, 401, 402 ; 
his personal appearance, 402 ; Sir Wil- 
liam Garstin's estimate of the impor- 
tance of his discoveries, 404, 405 ; his 
master -passion, that of a civiliser, not of 
a discoverer, 405-407 ; had no pecuniary 
interest in Africa, 407, 408. 

On the charm of the Great Forest, 
409 ; his return to civilisation, 409, 410; 
writes his book, /« Darkest Africa, ^11, 
412 ; goes to Brussels and is received 
by the King of Belgium, 412 ; Grand 
Crosses conferred on him, 412; dis- 
cusses African affairs with the King of 
Belgium, 413-417 ; arrives in England, 
418; his reception in England, 419 ; his 
interview with Gladstone, 419-421 ; his 
refutation of the charge that he used 
slaves, 421, 422 ; In Darkest Africa 
published, 422 ; stirs up societies tc see 



that Germany does not absorb too much 
of East Africa, 422 ; married, 423 ; 
meets Sir Richard F. Burton in the 
Engadine, 423 ; meets Camperio and 
Casati, 424 ; the guest of King Leopold 
at Ostend, 424 ; given degrees, 424, 
425 ; visits America on a lecturing tour, 
425 ; travels over the United States and 
Canada, 425-428; dines at the Press 
Club, New York, 426 ; newspaper com- 
ments on his personal appearance, 426 ; 
visits New Orleans, 426, 427 ; feels lack 
of freedom, 427, 428 ; returns to Eng- 
land, 428 ; lectures in England, 429 ; 
longs for rest, 429, 432 ; his reading, 
429 ; on the Welsh language, 430 ; his 
reception at Carnarvon, 431 ; on Canter- 
bury, 432, 433; visits Switzerland, 433; 
breaks his ankle, 434 ; visits King Leo- 
pold at Ostend, 434 ; his visit to Aus- 
tralia, etc., 434-438; letter to, from Sir 
George Grey, 436, 437. 

Consents to become candidate for 
Parliament, 439 ; defeated, 439 ; his 
speeches on second candidacy, 440-442 ; 
his disgust at electioneering methods, 
443, 444 ; on Beauregard, Lee, and 
Grant, 445 ; on Mackinnon and the East 
African Company, 446-449; on East 
Anglia and Yarmouth, 450-452 ; on 
Norwich, 452; his enjoyment of solitude 
by the sea, 453 ; on the Matabele War, 
454> 455! on 3, coal-strike, 455; on W. 
T. Stead, 455, 456; on the destruction 
of the slave-trade in Africa, 457, 458 ; 
on Lowell's Letters, 458, 459, 461 ; on 
A. L. Bruce, 459, 460 ; on Sir S. W. 
Baker, 462, 463 ; goes to the Isle of 
Wight, 463 ; at the Hills- Johnes', 464 ; 
begins his Autobiography, 465 ; elected 
to Parliament, 466, 467 ; first impres- 
sions of the House, 467-472 ; impres- 
sions of the speakers, 472-476 ; on ob- 
structive tactics, 476, 477 ; gives his 
maiden speech, 478-480 ; on the Vene- 
zuelan affair, 482 ; his love for his son, 
483, 485, 486 ; frequently ill from malaria 
and gastritis, 483-485. 

Leaves for South Africa, 485 ; his 
views on South African affairs, 486-489 ; 
his description of Kruger, 489-499 ; 
feels contempt for England for not act- 



550 



INDEX 



ing with more decision in South Africa, 
469-499; on Ladysmith as a camp, 
499, 500; presides at Lyall's lecture, 
501 ; views of England's lack of decisive- 
ness, 501; disgusted with the Parlia- 
mentary methods, 502, 504, 505 ; on the 
speakers, 503 ; on South African affairs, 
503, 504 ; has little influence in Parlia- 
ment, 504, 505 ; leaves Parliament, 505 ; 
looks for a house in the country, 506; 
buys Furze Hill, 506, 507 ; life at Furze 
Hill, 507, 50S ; created G. C. B., 508 ; 
how he was misunderstood, 508, 509 ; 
his story of the little black baby, 509 ; 
other baby stories, 510, 511; his repairs 
at Furze Hill, 512, 513; sickness and 
last days, 513-515; death, 515; buried 
atPirbright, Surrey, 515 ; his headstone, 
516. 

Thoughts on religion, 517, 51S; on 
the influence of religion, 518, 519; on 
prayer, 519, 520 ; on religious education, 
521 ; on Arnold's Light of the World, 
521; on mind and soul, 521, 522; on 
the fear of death, 522, 523 ; on illu- 
sions, 523 ; on the training of young 
men, and education, 523-525 ; on 
learning, 525; on real recreation, 525, 
526 ; on reviews and reviewers, 526, 
527 ; on reading the newspapers, 527 ; 
on returning to England, 528; on the 
England of forty years ago, 529, 530 ; 
on socialism, 530 ; on loafers, 530 ; on 
the cry of ' Wales for the Welsh,' 530, 
531 ; on starting on an expedition, 532 ; 
on the pleasures of travelling in Africa, 
532-535 ; on returning from an expedi- 
tion, 535 ; on the government of the 
Congo, 536 ; on the value of the Congo 
and British East Africa, 536; on Gen- 
eral Gordon, 537, 538. 

Poem of Sidney Low on, 539. 

Stanley, Lady, her marriage to Stanley, 423 ; 
urges Stanley to become candidate for 
Parliament, 439 ; letter to, from Sir 
George Grey, on Stanley's defeat for elec- 
tion to Parliament, 442, 443 ; ' nurses ' 
North Lambeth, 445 ; watches for signal 
of Stanley's election to Parliament, 466, 
467 ; during the last days of Stanley, 
512-516. 

Stanley, Mr., of New Orleans, Stanley's 



first meeting with, 87-90; Stanley visits, 
98-101 ; visits Stanley, 104; his gift of 
books to Stanley, 105; Stanley's affec- 
tion for, 118; charges himself with Stan- 
ley's future, and gives Stanley his name, 
118-125; Stanley travels with, 125; 
teaches Stanley how to read, 127; gives 
moral instruction to Stanley, 128-133, 
137-139; his religious views, 133-137; 
the further education he gives Stanley, 
140 ; his adventure with a thief, 141; 
his last parting with Stanley, 142-144; 
sends a letter to Stanley, 145, 146; death 
of, 161. 

Stanley, Mrs., of New Orleans, 99-ior, 
111-113. 

Stanley-Cook exploration in Asia, 223, 
224. 

Stanley Falls, 326. 

Stanley Pool, 329, 336. 

Stead, W. T., 455, 456. 

Story, Newton, 156, 165, 169, 170, 180, 

193- 
Suez Canal, opening of, 245. 
Swinburne, A. B., 345. 
Syra, Island of, 230-236. 

Talbot, A., 456, 458. 

Tanganyika, Lake, 261, 262, 318, 319. 

Tanner, Dr., 468, 469, 473-475. 

Tasmania, Stanley visits, 434, 437, 438. 

' Tay-Pay,' 475, 476. 

Taylor, Commissioner, 227. 

Teheran, 247. 

Tennant, Dorothy, married to Stanley, 

423. See Stanley, Lady. 
Theodore, King, 229, 230. 
Thomas, Captain Leigh, 17. 
Tiflis, 246. 

Tippu-Tib, 319-325. 364- 
Tomasson, 169, 180, 184. 
Tremeirchion, 42, 51. 

Uganda, 309-313, 405. 

Uganda Mission, 318. 

Uhha, 259, 260. J 

Ujiji, 262. 

Valencia, Stanley at, 243. 
Vasari, his Machiavelli, 463. 
Venezuela, and President Cleveland's mes- 
sage, 482. 



INDEX 



551 



Victoria, Queen, receives Stanley, 289- 

291. 
Victoria Nyanza, the, 305-317, 319. 
Vivi, 335. 

Waldron, Mr., 151, 153. 

' Wales for the Welsh,' 530, 531. 

Waring, Mr., 150. 

Washita River, 146. 

Waters, Mr., 71, 77, 79, 80, 

Webb, Mrs., 464. 

Wellcome, Henry, 514, 515. 

Welsh,' the North, 52. 

Welsh language, Stanley's views of, 430. 



Wilkes, W. H., 206. 

Williams, Mrs., 92. 

' Windermere,' the, 67-81. 

Winter, Mr. and Mrs., 60, 61. 

Winton, Sir Francis de, 338, 419. 

Wolseley, Lord, on Coomassie, 293 ; on 

Stanley, 294. 
Workhouse, St. Asaph Union, 10-34. 
Worsfold, Basil, on Sir George Grey^ 

379- 

Yarmouth, 450-452. 
Zanzibar, 250, 251, 280, 2980 



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